THE  BATTLE 
FORTHE  PACIFIC 


[See  p.  22 
"  A  MUFFLED  ROAR  ECHOED  OVER  THE  HEAVENS  " 


THE  BATTLE 
FOR    THE    PACIFIC 


AND  OTHER  ADVENTURES 
AT  SEA 


BY 

ROWAN   STEVENS,  YATES   STERLING,  JR. 

WILLIAM  J.  HENDERSON,  G.  E.  WALSH 

KIRK  MUNROE,  F.  H.  SPEARMAN 

AND    OTHERS 


ILLUSTRATED 


§ 


NEW  YORK    AND    LONDON 

HARPER  &  BROTHERS  PUBLISHERS 

MCMVIII 


Copyright,  1908,  by  HARPER  &  BROTHERS. 

All  rights  reserved. 
Published  April,  1908. 


Bancroft  Library 


CONTENTS 

Part  I 
THE  DREAM  OF  THE  GUNS 


I 

THE    BATTLE   FOR   THE   PACIFIC 

Sorakichi — Prometheus 

BY  ROWAN  STEVENS 

II 

THE  BOMBARDMENT  OF  THE  GOLDEN  GATE 

How  the  Attack  on   San   Francisco  was  Repulsed 

BY  YATES  STIRLING,  JR. 

Ill 
A   FIGHT    IN    THE    FOG 

A  Hard-won    Victory 
BY  YATES  STIRLING,  JR. 

IV 

THE  BATTLE  OFF  THE  HOOK 

How  the  North  Atlantic  Squadron  Met  the  Enemy 

BY  YATES  STIRLING,  JR. 

iii 


CONTENTS 
v 

HARRY    BORDEN'S    NAVAL    MONSTER 

A  Ship  of  the  Air 
BY  WILLIAM  J.  HENDERSON 

VI 
THE    CRUISE    OF   A    COMMERCE    DESTROYER 

How  the  "Calabria11  was  Captured 
BY  YATES  STIRLING,  JR. 

Part  II 
STRANGE  STORIES  OF  THE  SEA 


VII 
PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

Fighting  for  the  Flag 
BY  GEORGE  ETHELBERT  WALSH 

VIII 

THE  MUTINY  ON  THE  SWALLOW 

What  a  Boy  Did  to  Save  Life  and  Ship 

BY  WILLIAM  J.  HENDERSON 

IX 

THE    SCAPE-GOAT    OF    LA    JUSTICIA 
The  Strange  Tale  of  a  "Revolution" 
BY  HAROLD  MARTIN 
iv 


CONTENTS 

X 

CAPTAIN    SAMPSON'S    QUEER    CARGO 

How  a  Tidal-wave  Helped  the  Rebels 

BY  GEORGE  ETHELBERT  WALSH 

XI 

A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

Raiding  Oriental  Pirates 

BY  OWEN  HALL 

XII 

"CAP'N    I'S"    CLOSEST    CALL 

A  Tale  of  Fire  at  Sea 

BY  KIRK  MUNRO 

XIII 

MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

Pursued  by  the  Russian  Police 

BY  JULIAN  RALPH 

XIV 

THE  LOST  VOICE 

In  the  Depths  of  the  Sea 

BY  F.  H.  SPEARMAN 

XV 

JOE    GRIFFIN'S    GREAT   JUMP 

In  the  Service  of  Japan 
BY  WILLIAM  J.  HENDERSON 
v 


ILLUSTRATIONS 

"A  MUFFLED  ROAR  ECHOED  OVER  THE  HEAVENS"  Frontiipieet 

"THE  RAM  BOW  OF  THE  CRUISER  ENTERS  THE 

SIDE   OF  THE   ENEMY7' Fating  p.     46 

"FAST  AND  FURIOUS  BECOMES  THE  FIRE  OF 

THE  ENEMY77 "  62 

"THE  TWO  XEBECS  CLOSED  IN  ON  THE  PRIVA 
TEER"  .  .  .  ,. "  104 

"THE  DON  SEATED  HIMSELF  ON  THE  STUMP  OF 

THE  BROKEN  MAINMAST77 "  152 

"BILL  HAD  SCRAMBLED  ON  SHORE  AND  DIS 
APPEARED77 "  172 

AS   I   OPENED   THE   DOOR   A   BURST  OF  FLAME 

GREETED   ME777 "        180 

I   AM  DENISOV  OF  THE   POLICE777      ,  "        196 


(I  C 


INTRODUCTION 

IN  this  book  the  imagination  of  some  of  our 
most  fascinating  writers  has  found  a  wide 
range  in  strange  adventures  of  the  sea.  Once 
upon  a  time  a  book  was  written  called  The 
Battle  of  Dorking,  which  was  read  by  all  Eng 
land  because  the  invasion  of  England  which  it 
pictured  stirred  the  imaginations  of  the  most 
peaceable  English  citizens.  Again,  the  lament 
ed  Frank  R.  Stockton  wrote  a  tale  of  The 
Great  War  Syndicate,  which  proved  to  be  a 
most  amusing  fantasy  of  war.  In  the  present 
volume  several  most  ingenious  dreams  of  bat 
tle  are  sketched  with  a  vividness  and  dramatic 
force  which  will  absorb  the  interest  of  readers. 
They  are  no  more  real  than  the  invasion  of  our 
earth  by  the  people  of  Mars.  Most  fortunately 
our  country  is  at  peace,  and  since  every  reason 
able  American  wishes  peace  to  continue,  we  are 

not  likely  to  see  again  the  horrors  of  war. 
ix 


INTRODUCTION 

When  we  became  a  great  Pacific  power,  and 
undertook  new  responsibilities  in  acquiring 
Hawaii  and  the  Philippines,  we  gained  new 
neighbors.  Among  them  is  the  gallant  nation 
of  Japan,  whose  bravery  in  war  and  mastery 
of  the  arts  have  caused  the  whole  world  to 
wonder.  In  the  middle  of  the  nineteenth  cen 
tury  our  country  introduced  Japan  to  the  outer 
world,  and  the  friendship  begun  then  will,  we 
trust,  continue  always.  Some  of  the  story 
tellers  in  this  book  have  selected  Japan  as  an 
antagonist  in  their  imaginative  pictures  of 
future  wars,  and  others  have  chosen  England. 
But  the  fact  that  an  Englishman  or  Japanese 
or  an  American  plays  a  fighting  part  in  a  story 
and  comes  to  grief  does  not  assuredly  mean 
any  hostile  prediction  or  expression  of  ill-will 
towards  his  particular  country.  Quite  aside 
from  the  dramatic  interest  of  our  tales  of  great 
naval  encounters,  some  of  these  ingenious 
stories  lead  to  results  which  would  quickly 
put  an  end  to  war — a  result  to  be  earnestly 
hoped  for. 

There  are  few  whose  imagination  is  not 
stirred  by  the  sea,  and  the  purpose  of  this  book 


INTRODUCTION 

is  to  present  a  series  of  pictures  of  exploits  and 
adventures  at  sea.  Throughout  there  runs  the 
note  of  human  bravery  and  endurance.  The 
story  of  the  sea  is  a  great  book,  and  in  its  varied 
pages  may  be  read  many  a  lesson  of  patriotism 
and  dauntless  courage. 


THE    DREAM    OF    THE    GUNS 


THE    BATTLE    FOR  THE 
PACIFIC 

i 

SORAKICHI,—  PROMETHEUS 


the  butter  a  fair  wind,"  said  the 
engineer.  "  It's  running  free  already," 
growled  the  navigator. 

The  wardroom  mess  of  the  American,  cruiser 
were  at  breakfast,  and  the  hum  of  their  con 
versation  drifted  up  through  the  skylight  with 
the  odor  of  the  good  things  that  the  naval  officer 
finds  for  his  table  in  so  civilized  a  port  as 
San  Francisco. 

The  paymaster  was  in  an  argumentative 
mood,  which  was  not  unusual  for  a  man  who 
had  pronounced  views  on  all  things,  from  the 
advanced  method  of  polishing  brass-work  to 
the  latest  doctrines  of  "  Empirical  Psychol- 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 


°gy?"  and  when  lie  had  his  talking-tacks  aboard 
his  messmates  looked  for  fun. 

"  Look  at  the  activity  in  her  dock-yards,"  he 
was  saying,  "  look  at  her  purchase  of  trans 
ports,  look  at  her  mobilization  of  troops!  As 
sure  as  this  is  the  twentieth  century,  Japan 
wants  the  Hawaiian  Islands  and  the  Philip 
pines,  and  is  going  to  fight  for  them  !" 

"  Well,  if  she  does,  old  man,"  said  Jack 
Bowers,  the  senior  watch,  "  we'll  simply  own 
a  few  more  Asian  archipelagoes." 

"  I  doubt  it,"  replied  the  paymaster.  "  If 
this  war  comes,  we're  going  to  get  the  only 
licking  we  ever  had." 

A  chorus  of  indignant  groans  greeted  this. 

"  Oh,  it's  very  well  to  groan,"  he  went  on  ; 
"but  let  me  tell  you  that  the  Japanese  have 
engines  of  warfare  that  you  don't  even  dream 
of." 

"  They  can  certainly  fight,"  said  the  en 
gineer.  "  Russia  learned  that." 

"  There  is  no  other  country  on  earth  with 
Japan's  knowledge  of  advanced  electricity  and 
the  higher  mechanics,"  went  on  the  paymaster. 
"  Her  mechanical  experts  are  simply  marvels. 
Why,  their  discoveries  and  inventions  are  al 
most  beyond  belief. 

"  When  I  was  in  Japan  I  made  a  great 
4 


SORAKICH  I,  —  PROMETHEUS 

friend  of  a  native  scientist,  who  simply  laughed 
at  Maxim's  aeroplane  and  Langley's  steam- 
motor  when  I  spoke  of  our  flying  -  machines. 
It  seems  that  Sorakichi,  a  remarkable  chemist 
over  there,  has  devoted  the  last  ten  years  to 
inventing  new  compounds  and  contrivances  for 
the  sole  use  of  the  government  in  war-time. 
My  friend  took  me  on  a  fifty-mile  drive  back 
into  the  country,  and  from  the  hill-top  we  could 
see  his  works  ten  miles  away.  A  magnificent 
collection  of  foundries,  smithies,  and  machine- 
shops  were  smoking  at  a  great  rate,  and  we 
could  distinctly  hear  the  roar  of  the  immense 
forges  from  where  we  were  standing." 

"  Why  didn't  you  go  in  and  look  around  a 
bit?"  asked  the  junior  watch. 

"  Because,  my  friend,"  was  the  answer, 
given  with  some  asperity,  "  there  was  a  scowl 
ing  little  Jap  soldier  on  guard,  who  poked  his 
snickersnee  at  us  and  told  us  to  get  out  of 
that." 

"  I  didn't  know  you  understood  Japanese," 
remarked  the  engineer. 

"  I  didn't  have  to,"  said  the  paymaster. 

"  Well,  what's  all  that  got  to  do  with  these 
high  old  flying-machines  that  you  were  talk 
ing  up  just  now  ?" 

"  Simplv  this :  Sorakichi  has  evolved  an  air- 
5 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

ship  that  makes  thirty  knots  against  the  wind 
and  is  perfectly  controllable." 

"  Oh  yes/'  laughed  the  engineer.  "  I  sup 
pose  you  proved  it  by  taking  a  ride  in  one." 

"  ISTo ;  but  a  great  many  other  people  have 
proved  it  by  observation,"  answered  the  pay 
master. 

"  Yes  ?  Where  ?  In  Tibet  or  the  Mountains 
of  the  Moon  ?" 

"  In  the  United  States  of  America,  not  long 
'ago.  You  may  remember  when  it  looked  as 
if  we  might  have  trouble,  reports  of  mysterious 
air-ships  began  coming  in,  first  from  various 
Western  towns,  and  then  from  different  spots 
in  the  interior." 

"  Yes,  and  a  lovely  '  fake '  they  turned  out 
to  be,"  growled  the  executive. 

"  Did  they  ?"  asked  the  paymaster.  "  I  was 
under  the  impression  that  the  newspapers 
dropped  the  subject  after  being  unable  to  find 
out  anything  about  them.  We  do  know  this, 
however — the  air-ships  began  to  appear  short 
ly  after  the  arrival  of  the  Jap  cruiser  Naniwa 
Kan  at  the  Golden  Gate;  they  appeared  only 
at  night,  so  that  no  one  could  inspect  them 
critically;  and  they  were  invariably  seen  near 
one  of  OUT  military  depots,  modern  forts,  or 
masked  batteries." 

6 


SORAKICH  I, —  PROMETHEUS 

During  the  chaff  over  the  paymaster's  new 
dogmatism  the  navigator  came  in  from  the  deck 
and  took  his  seat.  "  Well,  old  Adams's  marine 
monster  is  coming  down  from  Vallejo  at  last/' 
he  said. 

"  What's  that  ?"  asked  Chisei,  the  little  doc 
tor  who  had  recently  joined. 

"  Thankful  Adams  —  Maine  —  classmate  of 
Bowers/'  explained  the  junior  watch,  hastily. 
"  Stood  first  in  ( math  '  and  languages,  and  was 
*  wooden '  in  everything  else,  especially  con 
duct.  Resigned  and  blew  out  to  China.  Drift 
ed  back  two  years  ago,  and  been  building  a 
monstrosity  in  a  Yallejo  dock-yard.  Let's  go 
and  look  at  her." 

The  officers  crowded  up  to  the  quarter-deck 
and  looked  over  the  brilliant  panorama  for  the 
approaching  stranger.  Abeam  of  the  cruiser 
to  port  was  another  still  larger;  to  starboard, 
the  fortlike  shape  of  a  battle-ship.  Astern,  a 
fleet  of  massive  battle-ships  swung  ponderously 
at  their  moorings,  while  dead  ahead,  through 
a  triple  line  of  gunboats,  cruisers,  and  torpedo- 
boats,  a  grotesque  little  craft  was  threading  a 
fishlike  way.  Her  blunt  nose,  in  the  centre 
of  which  gleamed  a  small  protruding  dead 
light,  rose  from  the  water-line  to  a  height  of 
fifteen  feet.  Three  fathoms  from  what  would 
7 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

have  been  the  cut-water  in  an  ordinary  vessel 
a  small  snaky-looking  tube  wabbled  and  flopped 
with  every  motion  imparted  by  the  waves. 
Abaft  this  rose  a  slender  mast  with  a  light 
signal  yard  -  arm.  There  was  neither  deck 
house,  pilot-house,  nor  smoke-stack,  but  her  en 
tire  after-part,  of  but  two  feet  freeboard,  ap 
parently  disconnected  from  the  hull  proper, 
wagged  slowly  from  side  to  side  like  the  tail 
of  a  prehistoric  saurian. 

The  quartermasters  on  the  bridge  levelled 
their  glasses  at  her  with  rapturous  grins,  the 
officer  of  the  deck  regarded  her  with  amazement 
through  his  binocular,  and  Jacky,  from  various 
perches  on  the  forecastle  and  forward  barbette, 
relieved  his  feelings  in  expressions  of  unholy 

joy- 

"  I  kin  die  happy,"  said  one.  "  I've  seen  the 
sea-serpent." 

"  De  horned  beast  off  de  Ref elations,"  mur 
mured  a  Hebrew  coal-heaver,  raising  his  eyes 
ecstatically  to  heaven. 

"  Ah,  get  out,  Jonah !"  cried  another.  "  Put 
on  a  life-belt.  Here  comes  your  whale." 

Slowly  the  little  monster  threaded  her  way 

to  the  port  quarter  of  the  cruiser,  where  she 

came  to  rest.     \7oluminous  bubblings  near  her 

nose  indicated  that  she  had  cast  anchor,  though 

8 


SORAKICH1,  — PROMETHEUS 

nothing   aboard   showed   her   means   of   doing 
so. 

A  water-tight  slide  opened  aft,  and  a  small 
dingy  slid  into  the  water.  From  the  narrow 
hatchway  emerged  a  civilian  and  two  sailors, 
who  stepped  into  the  little  boat,  which  was 
pulled  swiftly  to  the  starboard  gangway.  The 
civilian  skipped  up  the  ladder,  and  was  met  by 
a  group  of  officers. 

"  Well,  Adams,"  said  Bowers,  stepping  for 
ward  to  meet  him,  "  you  have  done  it  now !" 

"  Done  what  ?"  asked  Adams,  looking  down 
at  his  clothes  to  see  if  reference  was  intended 
to  new  paint  or  greasy  brass-work. 

"  It,"  answered  Bowers.  "  Why,  man,  as 
you  came  down  the  bay  you  threw  the  com 
passes  out  of  adjustment  on  every  ship  in  port, 
and  I  saw  the  old  Chicago  shying  like  a  three- 
year-old." 

"  Worse  'n  that,"  said  the  navigator.  "  The 
doctor  here  says  that  since  you  anchored  three 
cases  of  insanity  have  developed  forward.  You 
ought  not  to  be  allowed  to  go  around  terrifying 
seafaring  men  this  way." 

"  I  don't  see,"  began  Adams,  with  preter 
natural  gravity,  "  why  I  should  have  injured 
any  compasses.  My  ship  has  very  little  steel 
in  her,  and — " 

9 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  Oh,  you  dear  old  Tartar,"  interrupted 
Bowers,  "  will  you  never  see  a  joke  ?  Come 
down  below  and  look  at  our  steering-gear." 

They  all  went  below,  and  Adams  busied 
himself  for  a  few  moments  before  the  ward 
room  looking  -  glass,  arranging  his  tie  and 
folding  his  lapels  with  mathematical  pre 
cision. 

"  By  George,  you  look  more  Celestial  than 
ever,"  said  Bowers,  as  his  guest  surveyed  him 
self  with  calm  approval. 

"  Ought  to,"  said  Adams ;  "  been  taken  for 
a  Jap  by  Japs  for  fifteen  years." 

In  truth,  he  was  a  queer  type  of  the  "  Down- 
Easter."  His  hair  was  black  and  straight,  his 
complexion  sallow  to  yellowness,  his  eyes  dark, 
almond,  and  penetrating,  between  high  Mon 
golian  cheek-bones.  In  his  black  string  tie  and 
long  frock-coat  he  looked  more  like  an  Oriental 
proselyte  than  a  Yankee  sailor. 

"  Did  you  happen  to  run  foul  of  one  Soraki- 
chi  in  any  of  your  Asiatic  larks  ?"  asked  the 
junior  watch. 

"  Who  ?  Sorakichi  ?  Oh  yes !"  said  Adams. 
"  He  was  working  in  my  line ;  began  experi 
ments  when  I  did.  Queer  beggar;  shut  him 
self  up  in  a  machine-shop  for  ten  years  and 

guarded  his  secrets  with  a  private  army.    Guess 
10 


SORAKICHI,  — PROMETHEUS 

lie  never  made  much  of  a  success  of  things  or 
we'd  have  heard  from  him." 

"  The  paymaster's  been  filling  us  up  with 
yarns  about  him,"  remarked  Bowers.  "  Says 
he's  built  air-ships  to  beat  the  Dutch." 

"  He  has ;  but  they  haven't  flown  any  more 
than  mine  have,"  said  Adams.  "  And  if  mine 
had  been  worth  shucks  I'd  have  sold  'em  to  the 
Mikado.  He's  out  with  a  search-light  for  such 
things." 

"  You'd  better  try  him  with  that  apparition 
you  just  brought  down  the  harbor,"  announced 
the  navigator.  "  He  might  buy  her  for  a  new 
kind  of  patent  dragon." 

"  What !  the  automobile  ?"  asked  Adams. 

"  Automo —  Oh,  heavens !"  exclaimed  Bow 
ers.  "Call  her  the  automosinker ;  in  the  first 
gale  she's  liable  to  become  her  own  anchor.  By- 
the-way,  what's  her  name?" 

"  I  call  her  the  Franklin." 

"  If  my  classical  lore  is  not  at  fault,"  re 
marked  the  junior  watch,  "  that's  early  Saxon 
for  '  farmer.'  " 

"  She's  named  after  a  great  electrical  sharp 
of  the  eighteenth  century,"  was  the  impassive 
response. 

"  And  he  expects  her  to  go  '  kiting,'  "  con 
tinued  the  engineer. 

11 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

It  was  three  days  after  this  that  a  fast  cruiser 
came  flying  into  port  with  the  news  of  Japan's 
startling  seizure  of  Honolulu  and  Pearl  Har 
bor.  It  was  too  late  to  carp  at  the  government's 
policy  of  leaving  the  city  without  the  protec 
tion  of  the  fleet,  but  the  total  destruction  of 
the  islands'  fine  new  fortifications  on  the  night 
of  the  17th  filled  the  country  with  amazement 
and  indignation.  There  were  those  who  be 
lieved  that  the  fortress  and  the  forts  had  been 
destroyed  by  accidental  explosions  from  within, 
but  the  general  conclusion  seemed  to  be  that 
the  Japanese  cruiser  Fujiyama,  which  was  sup 
posed  to  be  armed  with  improved  dynamite 
guns  of  great  power,  had  crept  up  under  the 
darkness  to  an  exact  range  and  shattered  the 
works,  one  after  another,  with  her  stupendous 
weapons. 

The  bustle  of  war  preparation  began  with 
fury.  The  fleet  was  ordered  to  hold  itself  in 
readiness  for  immediate  departure,  and  three 
fast  cruisers  were  sent  out  at  once  as  scouts 
and  patrol-ships  to  the  north,  south,  and  to  the 
westward.  As  the  last  vessel  was  about  to  get 
under  way,  the  Franklin's  gig,  with  Adams 
in  the  stern  -  sheets,  wearing  a  battered  old 
lieutenant's  uniform,  pulled  over  to  the  gang 
way.  The  inventor  had  a  short  interview 
12 


SORAKICHI,  — PROMETHEUS 

with  the  Captain  on  the  flying  -  bridge,  and 
left  that  gallant  officer  smouldering  with 
wrath.  » 

"  I  told  them  I  wouldn't  have  any  flimsy 
little  torpedo-boats  tagging  around  after  me  and 
breaking  down  in  squads,  so  they've  sent  that 
pollywog  of  an  experiment  instead." 

"  What's  the  matter,  sir  ?"  asked  Bowers, 
with  a  suppressed  grin. 

"  Oh,  they've  commissioned  Adams,  and  sent 
that  Flying  Dutchman  of  his  after  me  for  a 
tender,"  growled  the  "  Old  Man."  "  He  says 
she  can  make  forty  knots.  Forty  knots!  I'll 
bet  last  year's  pay  she  don't  do  ten." 

"  Anchor's  in  sight,  sir,"  reported  the  officer 
of  the  deck. 

"  Very  well,  sir ;  get  under  way." 

The  indicator  sounded,  and  the  splendid  ves 
sel  forged  ahead.  On  she  went  through  the 
long  lines  of  parti-colored  cruisers,  past  the  pic 
turesque  summit  of  Alcatraz  and  the  crumbling 
ruins  of  the  quaint  old  forts.  She  pointed 
straight  at  the  setting  sun  that  lingered  tender 
ly  on  her  trailing  banner  and  mellowed  the 
haze  about  the  tawny  headlands  of  the  Golden 
Gate.  And  just  astern  of  her,  with  the  flexible 
tube  waggling  ridiculously — for  all  the  world, 
as  Bowers  said,  like  the  horns  of  a  catfish. — 

13 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

the  little  Franklin  came  flopping  comfortably 
along  in  her  wake. 

The  cruiser's  new  engines  gave  her  an  easy 
twenty  knots  under  natural  draught,  and  when 
she  cleared  the  land  and  began  to  push  along 
with  accelerated  way  all  eyes  were  turned  curi 
ously  toward  the  Franklin.  The  little  craft, 
however,  bore  up  comfortably  enough  until  early 
morning  on  the  third  day  out,  when  she  began 
to  fall  astern,  and  a  group  of  flags  fluttered  up 
to  her  signal  yard-arm. 

"  What  is  it  now  ?"  asked  the  Captain,  paus 
ing  in  his  "  constitutional  "  on  the  quarter-deck. 

"  Says  his  engines  is  broke  down,  sir,"  sang 
out  the  signal  quartermaster. 

"  Of  course,"  roared  the  "  Old  Man."  "  But 
I'll  not  wait  for  him.  If  he  thinks  I'm  a  float 
ing  patent  -  office  and  machine  -  shop  he's  mis 
taken." 

"  Axes  permission  to  heave  to  and  make  re 
pairs,  sir,"  continued  the  quartermaster,  step 
ping  aft. 

"  He  has  permission  to  go  to  wherever  he 
pleases,"  growled  the  skipper,  sotto  voce. 

"  Says  he  needs  no  assistance,  and  can  over 
take  us  in  two  hours,  Captain,"  said  the  signal- 
officer,  watching  the  changing  flags  astern. 

"  Very  good.     Tell  him  that  if  he  hasn't  got 
14 


SORAKICH  I,  — PROMETHEUS 

us  in  sight  by  noon  to  return  to  port.  And,  by- 
the-way,"  added  the  skipper,  with  a  malicious 
twinkle,  "  just  give  my  compliments  to  the 
engineer  and  tell  him  to  fire  up." 

A  rising  hum  from  below  told  of  increased 
revolutions,  and  by  one  bell  in  the  forenoon 
watch  the  blank  horizon  showed  no  trace  of  hu 
man  existence.  As  the  bell  struck  three,  how 
ever,  a  hail  came  from  the  lookouts  in  the  for 
ward  military  tops. 

"  Smoke  O !"  they  shouted  together.  "  Two 
p'ints  on  the  starboard  bow!" 

"  Messenger,  call  the  Captain !"  sang  out 
Bowers,  who  had  the  deck. 

"  Clear  for  action !"  called  the  executive, 
popping  out  of  the  wardroom  hatch  like  a  jack- 
in-the-box. 

"  How's  she  heading  ?"  asked  the  Captain  two 
minutes  later,  as  he  reached  the  forward  bridge 
and  levelled  his  glass. 

"  Eight  for  us,  sir,"  responded  one  of  the 
lookouts,  in  a  clear  tenor. 

"  Beat  to  quarters,"  snapped  the  skipper, 
and  the  bustling  multitude  on  deck  melted  away 
and  resolved  itself  into  silent  groups  at  the 
sharp  clangor  of  the  gong  and  the  shrilling  of 
the  boatswain's  pipe. 

"  Can  you  make  out  her  colors  ?" 
15 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  Not  yet,  sir/'  came  a  deep  bass  from  aloft. 

A  brief  interval  of  silence,  broken  only  by  an 
occasional  thud  as  a  hastily  donned  garment  was 
kicked  into  obscurity. 

"  Her  helium's  a-port,"  rang  out  the  tenor. 

"  A  ram  bow !"  sang  the  bass. 

"  An'  a  turret  for'a'd !"  screamed  the  tenor. 

"  An'  Japanese  colors !"  roared  the  bass. 

A  smothered  cheer  rose  as  the  order,  "  Cast 
loose  and  provide!" — was  heard  coming  sepul- 
chrally  from  between-decks. 

The  stranger  was  now  in  plain  sight  from 
the  bridge. 

"  It's  the  Fujiyama,  sir,"  said  Bowers,  pok 
ing  his  head  through  the  man-hole  in  the  for 
ward  turret,  where  his  gun  crews  were  at 
quarters. 

"  So  I  see,"  said  the  Captain.  "  But  what 
does  he  mean?  By  George,  I  believe 
the  beggar's  trying  to  give  us  the  slip! 
Signal  the  engine-room  to  give  her  all  she'll 
stand." 

The  enemy  had  swung  completely  round  to 
starboard,  and  the  increased  volume  of  black 
smoke  from  her  funnels  showed  that  she  was 
piling  on  coal. 

"  Twelve    thousand    yards,"    signalled    the 

range-finders  in  the  tops. 
16 


SORAKICHI,  — PROMETHEUS 

"  Try  an  eight-inch,  Bowers/'  called  the  Cap 
tain. 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir/'  and  that  officer  skipped  joy 
ously  back  into  his  grimy  hole.  A  flash  and  a 
roar  followed,  and  the  officers  on  the  bridge 
watched  the  projectile  fly  over  its  lofty  traject 
ory  only  to  drop  far  astern  of  the  chase. 

"  A  mile  short/'  said  the  navigator. 

"  Easily/7  answered  the  Captain.  "  Tell  the 
engineer  to  pile  on  steam;  that  fellow  sha'n't 
escape !" 

But  it  was  soon  evident  that  the  Fujiyama 
was  not  thinking  of  "  escape."  She  slowed 
down  perceptibly,  and  from  a  spot  just  abaft 
her  military  mast  a  small,  dark,  elliptical  ob 
ject  soared  aloft.  Another  and  another  fol 
lowed  at  intervals  of  ten  seconds.  The  first 
one  moved  rapidly  to  the  south,  the  second  to 
the  north,  the  third  headed  directly  towards  the 
cruiser.  Soon  the  others  turned  and  approach 
ed  from  either  hand. 

"  Aloft  there !"  called  the  Captain.  "  What 
do  you  make  out?" 

"  Balloons,  sir,"  came  the  bass  from  the  upper 
top. 

"  With  wings  and  tails/'  called  the  tenor. 

"  An'  men  in  'em !"  thundered  the  bass. 

The  Captain  looked  perplexed  and  grieved. 
17 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  Get  all  the  elevation  you  can  on  the  machine- 
guns,"  he  ordered.  "  Dismount  ?em  if  neces 
sary,  and  fire  at  will." 

From  the  sides  and  superstructure  of  the 
cruiser  came  a  steady  crackling  blaze  as  Hotch- 
kiss  and  Nordenfeldt  spouted  their  streams  of 
fire.  The  marines  in  the  tops  had  dismounted 
their  light  weapons,  and  by  a  clever  arrange 
ment  of  tackle  could  point  them  almost  per 
pendicularly.  But  the  air-ships  had  now  reach 
ed  an  elevation  of  more  than  a  mile,  and  every 
shot  fell  short. 

"  Cease  firing,"  ordered  the  skipper,  sharply. 
"  Mr.  Keelson,"  to  the  executive,  "  crowd  the 
tops  with  small  arms." 

"  Eight  thousand  yards,"  signalled  the  range- 
finder. 

"  May  I  try  her  again,  sir  ?"  asked  Bowers. 

"  Do  so,"  nodded  the  Captain. 

By  this  time  the  first  of  the  air-ships  had 
reached  a  point  almost  directly  overhead,  and 
the  Fujiyama  was  apparently  moving  under 
one  bell,  awaiting  developments.  Her  curiosity 
cost  her  dear,  however,  for  while  the  projectile 
from  Bowers's  port  gun  whizzed  harmlessly  over 
her  trucks,  the  sister  shot  went  straight  to  its 
mark,  and  a  red  flame,  a  cloud  of  smoke,  and  a 
dull  report  near  her  overhanging  stern  showed 
18 


SORAKICHI, —  PROMETHEUS 

that  the  shell  had  landed  fair.  The  small  tor 
pedo-launch  abaft  her  superstructure  flew  shat 
tered  from  its  crane,  and  a  bright  blaze  crept 
for  a  moment  along  her  starboard  rail. 

"  Well  done,  Number  Two !"  called  the  Cap 
tain,  as  a  wild  cheer  burst  from  his  men. 

"  Look  aloft !  Look  aloft !"  cried  the  signal- 
officer. 

The  air-ships  were  gathering  in,  and  the  first 
one  was  directly  overhead.  She  stopped,  poised 
herself  for  a  moment,  and  a  round,  black  object 
dropped  from  her  side.  It  fell  hissing  through 
the  air,  and  struck  the  water  thirty  yards  on 
the  starboard  beam.  There  was  a  terrible  rend 
ing  roar,  and  a  great  smoking  gulf  opened  in 
the  water.  The  officers  on  the  bridge  were  cov 
ered  with  hot  spray  dashed  violently  against 
them.  The  cruiser  staggered  for  a  moment  and 
lurched  violently  over  on  her  beam  ends.  She 
hung  so  long  that  it  seemed  as  if  she  would 
never  right  herself ;  but  at  length  she  shook  the 
water  ponderously  from  her  sides  and  returned 
to  an  even  keel. 

It  was  more  than  humanity  could  endure,  and 
numbers  of  the  men  rushed  up  from  between- 
decks,  thinking  that  the  magazine  had  exploded 
and  the  ship  was  sinking.  They  had  hardly 
returned  below,  under  the  sharp  orders  from 
a  19 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

the  bridge,  when  the  second  air-ship  took  posi 
tion  and  let  fall  her  bomb.  This  fell  too  far 
away  to  do  damage;  but  the  third  came  closer, 
and  again  the  great  ship  rolled  almost  to  her 
destruction.  Things  now  looked  hopeless;  it 
was  apparent  that  sooner  or  later  one  of  the 
dreadful  missiles  would  reach  its  mark.  But, 
to  the  surprise  of  those  on  deck,  the  three  air 
ships  circled  about  and  headed  back  toward  the 
Fujiyama,  which  by  this  time  had  drawn  out 
of  range  of  the  cruiser's  guns. 

"  Queer  manoeuvre  that,"  said  the  Captain. 

"  They've  gone  after  more  ammunition,"  sug 
gested  the  executive,  levelling  his  glass. 

"  We've  got  to  smash  the  Fujiyama  before 
they  leave  her  again,"  muttered  the  Captain. 
"  What  are  we  making,  Keelson  ?" 

"  Twenty-one  and  a  half,  sir,"  answered  the 
executive,  with  a  glance  at  the  indicator. 

"  Tell  the  engine-room  to  use  oil." 

The  cruiser  vibrated  from  stem  to  stern  as 
the  revolutions  of  her  screws  increased.  Black 
smoke  and  fiery  tongues  of  flame  trailed  astern 
from  her  heated  funnels.  A  jet  of  white  spray 
rose  almost  to  the  catheads  on  either  side,  and 
her  wake  stretched  broad  and  foaming  astern; 
but  the  enemy  kept  her  distance,  and  the  bow 

guns  could  not  reach.     The  air-ships  overtook 
20 


SORAKICHI,  — PROMETHEUS 

the  Fujiyama  and  settled  easily  down  upon  her 
deck.  A  brief  interval  of  suspense,  and  they 
appeared  again,  heading  as  before,  one  to  star 
board,  one  to  port,  and  one  directly  at  the 
cruiser. 

"  Muster  the  crew  on  deck,"  ordered  the  Cap 
tain,  in  a  low  voice,  "  and  station  the  band 
aft." 

It  was  a  calm  and  lovely  setting  for  the 
final  act  of  an  ocean  tragedy.  The  long  blue 
swell  of  the  Pacific  was  white-flecked  here  and 
there  by  the  morning  breeze.  The  sun  gleamed 
through  a  pale-gold  mist  over  fleecy  clouds  and 
tender  skies  and  gleaming  sea.  All  seemed 
peace  from  where  the  Fujiyama,  her  harsh  out 
line  softened  by  distance,  sped  towards  the  sharp 
rim  of  the  western  horizon  to  where  the  stately 
bulk  of  the  American  ship  advanced  grandly 
over  the  waters.  The  flags  fluttered  serenely 
aloft;  the  crew  stood  erect  and  defiant  at  their 
stations,  the  officers  stern  and  determined  at 
their  posts.  An  increasing  rattle  and  clatter 
of  small  arms  broke  out  forward ;  aft,  the  band 
crashed  into  the  opening  strains  of  the  "  Star- 
spangled  Banner." 

And  so  that  Yankee  crew  sped  onward  to 
meet  their  doom.  Their  faces  were  white,  but 
their  souls  composed ;  no  thought  of  surrender 
21 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

was  in  any  heart.  And  the  mysterious  foes 
drew  closer. 

But  now,  to  break  in  upon  the  terrible  sus 
pense,  a  strange  sound  came  from  off  the 
cruiser's  quarter — a  sound  of  boiling  seas  and 
engines  gone  to  chaos.  The  good  ship  was  mak 
ing  well  over  her  twenty-two  knots,  but  a  gro 
tesque  gray  shape  drew  up  on  her  beam,  forged 
ahead,  and  left  her  behind  as  though  she  had 
been  lying  idly  at  a  navy-yard  dock. 

"  The  Franklin!"  burst  from  the  lips  of  the 
officers  on  the  bridge. 

The  little  craft  steered  directly  towards  the 
nearest  of  the  approaching  air-ships.  No  sign 
of  life  was  visible  on  her  deck,  but  the  flexible 
tube  forward,  which  had  not  ceased  its  vibra 
tions  from  the  moment  of  her  launching,  sud 
denly  became  rigidly  still,  and  pointed  like  a 
finger  of  steel  toward  the  birdlike  thing  aloft. 

"  Call  him  back !"  cried  the  Captain.  "  Tell 
him  to  withdraw !  He  doesn't  know — " 

No  spout  of  flame  slipped  from  the  muzzle  of 
that  mysterious  finger,  no  smoke  burst  from  its 
hidden  chamber,  but  the  day  was  darkened  with 
a  shock,  and  a  blinding  blue  glare  went  flashing 
from  sea  to  sky.  Far  aloft  a  muffled  roar  echoed 
over  the  heavens  like  a  rattling  peal  of  thunder. 

Daylight  returned  dimly,   and  the  men  of 
22 


SO  RAKICH1,  — PROMETHEUS 

the  cruiser  raised  their  dazzled  eyes  to  the  blue 
space  where  they  had  seen  their  nearest  foe. 
Nothing  was  there  save  a  dull-brown  cloud, 
which  drifted  peacefully  along  with  the  cirrus 
and  cumulus  of  creamy  white. 

A  cry  burst  from  the  awed  lips  of  the  quarter 
master. 

The  second  air-ship  was  coming  like  the  wind, 
but  now  she  stopped,  wavered,  and  careened  in 
mid-air,  turned  to  fly,  and  vanished,  like  the 
first,  in  the  diabolical  glare  of  the  Franklins 
gun. 

The  third,  warned  by  the  fate  of  her  prede 
cessors,  and  still  far  from  the  scene  of  their 
disaster,  had  already  dropped  her  bomb  into  the 
sea,  since  the  weight  now  only  impeded  her  es 
cape,  and  had  flown  despairingly  back  to  the 
shelter  of  the  Fujiyama. 

But  the  little  Franklin  had  not  yet  finished 
her  work.  She  plunged  onward  with  the  speed 
of  a  hungry  shark,  and  closed  rapidly  on  the 
enemy's  cruiser.  When  she  was  five  miles  ahead 
of  the  cruiser,  midway  between  the  two  men-of- 
war,  she  stopped  suddenly,  and  a  line  of  signals 
climbed  to  her  yard-arm. 

"  What  does  she  say  ?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"  She  says — oh,  Lor',  sir !"  exclaimed  the 
quartermaster,  skipping  after  his  neglected 
23 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

signal-book,  and  turning  the  pages  with  a  wet 
and  hasty  thumb — "  she  says  for  him  to  heave 
to  an'  surrender,  or  she'll  sink  him." 

"And,  by  jingo,  he  does  it;  there  go  his 
colors !"  exclaimed  the  Captain,  as  the  Japanese 
flag  dropped  sullenly  to  the  deck. 

The  executive  folded  his  telescope  with  a 
snap.  "  This,  sir,"  he  said,  gravely,  "  is  the 
last  sea  fight  of  history." 

"He's  signalling  to  us  now,  sir,"  continued 
the  quartermaster ;  "  he's  axin'  Mr.  Bowers  to 
go  an'  look  in  his  locker  for  a  letter  from 
Cap'n  Adams." 

At  the  implied  permission  from  the  Captain, 
Bowers,  accompanied  by  those  officers  whose 
duties  permitted  their  temporary  absence  from 
the  deck,  hastened  below  to  his  state  -  room. 
And  this,  scrawled  in  Adams's  unmistakable 
hieroglyphics,  and  stowed  away  in  Bowers's 
room  by  some  sleight  -  of  -  hand,  is  what  they 
found : 

"  That  man  Bowers,  he  thinks  I  don't  know 
a  joke.  But  he  can  just  order  for  twelve  covers 
when  we  get  back  to  'Frisco.  He  talks  to  me 
about  Sorakichi  and  his  Japanese  flying -ma 
chines.  But  I've  got  something  that  '11  just 
knock  'em  silly.  Controllable  air-ships  are  all 

right,  but   controllable  lightning's  better.    And 
24 


SORAKICHI,  — PROMETHEUS 

I  know,  my  son,  because  I  invented  'em  both. 
What  did  you  think  I  was  doing  in  Japan  all 
these  years  ?  Don't  you  call  me  any  more  Tar 
tars,  you  dear  old  wooden  section-man!  Can't 
you  guess  it?  I'm  Sorakichi!" 


II 

THE  BOMBARDMENT  OF  THE  GOLDEN 
GATE 

How  the  Attack  on  San  Francisco  was  Repulsed 


STKANGE  fleet  is  in  sight  to  the  west- 
JL\  ward."  This  is  the  startling  report  of 
the  wireless  telegraph  from  the  Farallone  Isl 
ands,  situated  twenty-eight  miles  nearly  due 
west  of  San  Francisco.  The  General  receives 
the  report  without  a  sign  of  the  anxiety  he  feels, 
and  continues  his  study  of  the  huge  maps  before 
him.  He  is  contemplating  the  vast  amount  of 
work  that  has  been  accomplished  in  the  last 
three  months  since  war  had  been  declared. 
Then  San  Francisco  had  been  a  defenceless  city 
at  the  mercy  of  the  most  insignificant  enemy; 
now  it  is  as  nearly  impregnable  as  human  skill 
and  ingenuity  can  make  it. 

The  General  takes  a  lingering  look  at  the 
maps  on  his  desk;  running  over  the  different 
forts,  he  sees  with  pride  that  there  is  nothing 
left  undone. 

26 


THE    BOMBARDMENT 

On  Point  Lobos,  the  southern  cape  of  the 
outer  harbor,  on  high  bluffs,  are  three  16-inch 
rifles  mounted  on  disappearing  carriages,  the 
guns,  in  the  loading  position,  being  behind 
breastworks  of  earth  and  concrete.  In  this  posi 
tion  the  guns  are  sighted,  then  they  rise  to 
the  firing  position  above  the  earthwork  for 
only  a  few  seconds,  and  then  recoil  to  their 
position  of  safety.  On  the  high  land  be 
tween  Point  Lobos  and  Fort  Point  are  two 
12-inch  and  two  10-inch  rifles  in  Grueson  tur 
rets,  the  armor  consisting  of  eighteen  inches 
of  Harveyized  nickel  -  steel.  The  turrets  are 
segments  of  a  sphere,  and  are  manipulated  like 
those  on  a  battle-ship.  A  little  higher  up  is 
one  of  the  two  formidable  pneumatic  guns,  the 
explosion  of  whose  shell  within  twenty  yards  of 
a  ship  would  send  her  to  the  bottom.  At  Fort 
Point,  the  southern  cape  of  the  Golden  Gate,  in 
earthworks  of  old  design  patched  up  and 
strengthened,  are  four  10-inch  rifles  with  dis 
appearing  carriages.  On  the  northern  cape  of 
the  Gate,  Point  Bonito,  are  three  16-inch  rifles 
mounted  in  a  similar  way.  The  second  pneu 
matic  terror  is  also  at  this  point,  commanding 
the  entrance  to  the  Gate.  Point  Diablo  is 
fortified  with  three  12-inch  and  two  10-inch 
rifles  on  disappearing  carriages,  and  Lime  Point 
27 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

will  defend  the  harbor  with  four  10-inch  rifles 
mounted  in  the  same  way.  The  outer  harbor 
seaward  of  Fort  Point  and  Point  Diablo  has 
been  well  mined,  making  it  impossible  for  a 
vessel  to  enter  in  safety  even  though  she  had 
escaped  the  tons  of  steel  hurled  at  her.  The 
cables  from  the  mines  are  led  to  a  central 
station  on  the  bluffs  back  of  Fort  Point.  If  by 
chance  the  enemy's  ships  should  ride  over  this 
hidden  explosive,  the  simple  pressure  of  a  key 
in  this  station  would  send  them  all  to  de 
struction. 

At  the  mine  station  are  two  observers,  who, 
by  an  instrument  similar  to  a  range  -  finder, 
discover  from  time  to  time  the  position  of  the 
enemy  on  this  chart.  When  the  unlucky  ves 
sel  is  over  a  mine  the  key  is  pressed. 

On  Sutro  Heights  is  a  heavily  armored  tower, 
the  inside  of  which  to  an  inexperienced  eye 
would  appear  like  a  central-telephone  station. 
It  is  the  General's  headquarters  in  action. 
From  here  he  and  his  staff  will  direct  and  con 
trol  the  battle.  This  is  the  brain  of  the  in 
tricate  fortifications.  The  nerves  run  to  every 
battery  and  central  station,  making  it  but  the 
work  of  a  minute  to  transmit  orders  to  any 
point.  Before  another  half-hour  has  slipped 

away  everything  is  activity  within  the  forts. 
28 


THE    BOMBARDMENT 

The  wires  from  the  General's  tower  are  busy 
with  the  many  orders  transmitted. 

Actual  hostilities  began  months  ago  in  the 
Far  East,  but  as  yet  have  not  laid  their  cruel 
hand  on  the  Pacific  slope. 

While  the  army  has  been  making  the  Golden 
Gate  a  fortress,  the  navy  has  not  been  idle.  All 
the  fighting  ships  on  the  coast  have  been  col 
lected,  and  the  work  on  the  new  ones  so  ex 
pedited  that  a  formidable  fleet  has  been  massed 
in  the  harbor.  The  flag-ship,  cleared  for  action, 
the  Admiral's  blue  flag  flying  at  her  truck,  is 
lying  behind  Alcatraz  Island;  made  fast  to 
the  different  mooring-buoys  by  slip-ropes  is  the 
rest  of  the  Pacific  fleet:  battle-ships,  cruisers, 
and  a  coast-defence  monitor. 

The  foreign  fleet  is  now  in  sight  from  Sutro 
Heights.  A  glance  through  the  powerful  tele 
scope  tells  the  General  it  is  the  enemy — six 
first-class  battle-ships  and  eight  cruisers,  for  the 
belligerent  country  depends  upon  the  capture 
of  this  rich  city  to  defray  the  heavy  expense  of 
the  war. 

They  are  approaching  in  double  columns, 
the  battle-ships  leading.  Nearer  and  nearer 
they  come.  The  range-finders  at  the  different 
batteries  show  that  the  range  is  rapidly  dimin 
ishing.  News  has  reached  San  Francisco,  and 
29 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

the  high  bluffs  about  the  city  are  thronged  with 
an  excited  crowd.  The  blue-coated  regulars 
have  gone  to  their  stations,  and  stand  ready  at 
the  command  to  open  the  greatest  battle  the  West 
has  ever  seen.  On  the  ships  of  the  enemy  come, 
majestically  cutting  the  smooth  sea,  throwing 
the  silvery  spray  upon  their  bare  forecastles, 
over  which  the  heavy  turret-guns  are  to  soon 
speak. 

"  Four  miles,  sir !"  reports  one  of  the  Gen 
eral's  aides.  The  batteries  at  Lobos  and  Bonito 
are  ordered  to  open  fire.  The  six  big  16-inch 
rifles  thunder  forth  their  challenge  almost 
simultaneously,  and  nearly  three  and  a  half 
tons  of  steel  go  speeding  toward  the  approach 
ing  enemy.  All  eyes  are  turned  seaward, 
where  suddenly  columns  of  water  are  thrown 
up  close  aboard  the  on-coming  ships.  Again 
and  again  the  heavy  batteries  speak ;  shot  after 
shot  goes  on  its  deadly  flight,  making  havoc 
on  board  the  silent  vessels.  The  fleet  is  ap 
proaching  at  nearly  fifteen-knot  speed;  it  will 
take  them  but  eight  minutes  to  reach  the  range, 
when  tons  of  gun-cotton  will  be  sent  out  to  meet 
them  both  above  and  below  the  peaceful  sea. 
They  are  heading  directly  for  the  entrance. 
What  can  be  their  intention?  Will  they  dare 
attempt  to  run  the  forts?  Do  they  suppose 

30 


THE    BOMBARDMENT 

the  harbor  is  clear  of  mines  and  they  have 
naught  to  fear  save  the  guns  ?  The  range-finder 
dials  point  to  4000  yards  from  the  Gate.  All 
the  guns  on  the  forts  are  blazing  forth  fire,  but 
the  gunners'  aims  are  poor,  and  the  better  part 
of  the  shots  are  fruitlessly  ploughing  up  the  sea 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  enemy.  One  well-aimed 
16-inch  shell  strikes  home  on  the  nearest  ship; 
her  armor  is  pierced,  and  she  has  become  un 
manageable  and  drops  out  of  the  advancing 
columns.  Nearer  and  nearer  comes  the  fight 
ing.  At  last  the  dreaded  puffs  of  smoke  dart 
from  the  battle-ships'  turrets,  and  the  shells  are 
coming  screeching  ashore,  tearing  up  the  earth 
in  the  fortifications.  With  a  glass  one  of  the 
aides  is  scanning  the  sea  at  the  entrance  to  the 
harbor.  An  exclamation  escapes  him  as  his 
glass  focusses  on  some  object  of  interest;  with 
a  finger  trembling  with  emotion  he  points  out 
to  the  General  two  small  red  flags,  barely  dis 
tinguishable  on  the  water's  surface,  midway 
between  Point  Lobos  and  the  nearest  ship.  A 
glance  shows  it  to  be  the  flags  on  a  controllable 
torpedo.  Out  it  goes  at  a  terrific  speed ;  nearer 
and  nearer  it  approaches  its  intended  victim. 
Harmless  enough  look  these  small  pieces  of 
bunting,  but  underneath  the  water  not  many 

feet  lurk  nearly  five  hundred  pounds  of  deadly 
31 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

gun-cotton.  It  has  passed  astern  of  the  lead 
ing  ship.  Will  it  run  out  its  scope  and  fail? 
A  small  column  of  water  is  seen  to  ascend  from 
the  flags,  and  the  next  moment  the  second  bat 
tle-ship  is  nearly  engulfed  in  a  mighty  ex 
plosion.  The  first  charge  tears  the  torpedo-net ; 
the  second  makes  one  less  ship  to  attack  the 
batteries,  for  she  is  fast  sinking.  The  gun- 
cotton  has  exploded  against  her  steel  hull.  A 
cruiser  drops  out  to  render  assistance. 

An  explosion  that  seems  like  an  earthquake 
to  those  in  the  fortifications  tells  that  the  first 
gun-cotton  shell  has  exploded  near  the  enemy. 
One  of  the  leading  battle-ships  heels  over  and 
slowly  sinks  beneath  the  waves ;  her  seams  have 
been  opened  by  the  force  of  the  explosion.  The 
enemy  now  is  in  irregular  formation,  more 
nearly  like  double  echelon;  they  are  pouring 
in  a  scathing  fire  on  all  the  batteries.  As  they 
approach  the  torpedo-range,  they  starboard  and 
stand  out  to  sea,  bringing  to  bear  their  after- 
turrets.  Some  of  their  shots  have  worked 
awful  havoc  ashore;  gun  after  gun  has  been 
dismantled ;  one  of  the  pneumatic  guns  has  been 
struck  by  a  shell  and  is  a  total  wreck.  The 
remaining  controllable  torpedoes  have  failed. 

The  pneumatic  gun  on  Point  Bonito  is  aimed 
at  the  nearest  ship,  but  a  mile  and  a  half  away ; 
32 


THE    BOMBARDMENT 

the  gauge  on  the  accumulator  shows  the  air- 
pressure  is  sufficient.  The  lever  is  tripped,  and 
the  quarter-ton  of  gun-cotton,  with  a  whir,  is 
hurled  on  its  errand  of  destruction.  The  eye 
can  distinguish  the  aerial  torpedo  as  it  soars 
to  the  height  of  its  trajectory,  and  then  majesti 
cally  and  swiftly  steals  down  towards  its  help 
less  prey.  Will  it  explode?  It  strikes  the 
water  a  few  yards  from  the  target,  but  the  look- 
ed-for  explosion  does  not  follow;  the  fuse  has 
failed.  The  next  minute  every  gun  of  the 
enemy  is  trained  upon  this  terrible  weapon, 
knowing  that  if  the  shell  is  again  let  loose  their 
ships  will  be  like  chaff  before  this  tremendous 
power.  The  enemy  is  now  confident  of  victory. 
Signals  go  up  on  the  flag-ship,  and  in  a  very  few 
minutes  the  old  formation  is  resumed,  and  once 
again  they  head  for  the  harbor. 

The  firing  becomes  hot  and  furious;  broad 
side  after  broadside  belches  forth  from  the 
enemy's  steel  sides;  a  few  shells  go  wide  into 
the  city,  and  dense  columns  of  black  smoke 
from  the  buildings  set  on  fire  lend  a  more  awe 
some  aspect  to  the  picture  depicted. 

The  observers  at  the  mining-station  are  ner 
vous  with  the  suppressed  excitement  within  them. 
Their  chart  shows  that  the  ships  of  the  enemy 
are  only  eight  hundred  yards  away  from  their 
33 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

mines.  Will  it  be  their  fortune  to  decide  the 
fate  of  the  Golden  City?  The  ships  still  ad 
vance.  Soon  they  will  come  over  the  mines.  A 
pressure  of  the  key  under  the  hand  will  dis 
charge  tons  of  the  hidden  explosive. 

But  the  enemy  has  stopped.  What  does  this 
foretell?  Five  hundred  yards  from  the  mines 
the  ships  are  nearly  motionless  in  the  troubled 
sea  lashed  to  foam  by  the  ploughing  of  so  much 
steel. 

All  the  batteries  are  now  doing  splendid  work. 
Explosion  follows  explosion  on  board  the  in 
truding  ships.  Two  cruisers  are  unmanageable 
and  on  fire;  they  drift  onto  the  rocks  almost 
within  a  stone's  throw  of  one  of  the  batteries. 
Suddenly  torpedoes  shoot  from  the  bow  tubes 
of  the  leading  ships,  and  a  few  moments  after 
wards  tremendous  columns  of  water  are  seen  to 
rise  from  the  bay,  and  the  next  second  the  sound 
of  a  mighty  discharge  reaches  the  expectant 
ears  of  the  defenders  of  the  Gate.  The  officer 
at  the  mining-key  knows  from  the  spark  that 
jumps  across  under  his  hand  that  the  enemy  has 
countermined  and  the  harbor  is  clear.  The 
struggle  has  come  to  such  close  quarters  that 
the  rapid-fire  and  machine-gun  fire  lends  its 
sharp  cracking  report  to  the  dull  roar  of  the 
heavy  guns. 

34 


THE    BOMBARDMENT 

But  the  foe  has  stopped  too  long !  The  mortar- 
battery  on  Lobos  has  gotten  his  range.  Sud 
denly,  with  a  whir,  a  column  of  smoke  rises 
in  the  air  just  over  the  bay,  and  a  bunch  of  16- 
inch  mortar-shells  falls  upon  the  decks  of  the 
battle-ships.  One  shell  strikes  over  the  boilers 
of  one  of  the  ships,  penetrating  them  a  second 
later,  and  the  explosion  rends  her  asunder. 
Where  this  powerful  steel-clad  had  been  but  a 
moment  before  is  but  the  hissing  foam  of  trou 
bled  waters. 

The  General  sees  the  fight  has  now  reached 
the  critical  point;  the  cruisers  have  dashed 
ahead  and  will  soon  be  within  the  harbor. 
Many  of  the  batteries  have  been  put  out  of 
action  by  the  well-aimed  shots  of  the  enemy. 
The  navy  is  needed,  but  the  telephone  connec 
tion  with  the  station  has  been  severed;  the  sig 
nal  has  not  been  made.  Time  is  precious.  A 
few  minutes  more,  and  the  whole  fleet  will  be 
within  the  Bay  of  San  Francisco,  and,  without 
the  batteries,  will  be  more  than  a  match  for 
the  few  United  States  ships. 

An  exclamation  involuntarily  escapes  from 
the  General's  lips  as  he  sees  the  American  flag 
ship  emerge  from  behind  Alcatraz  Island,  and 
come  rushing  down  to  the  fight. 

The  small  fleet  was  thought  too  valuable  to 

4  35 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

hazard  against  such  as  the  enemy  brought.  The 
plan  was  not  to  expose  it  till  the  signal  was 
made.  But  the  Admiral,  behind  Alcatraz  Isl 
and,  has  been  pacing  up  and  down  the  deck  of 
his  battle-ship,  tugging  at  the  restraining  bonds, 
growing  more  and  more  impatient  as  the  can 
nonading  has  become  more  furious.  The  crews 
of  the  ships  feel  the  inactivity  keenly ;  anything 
is  better  than  this  suspense.  Why  does  not  the 
signal  come  ?  The  Admiral  will  wait  no  longer, 
but  slips  his  moorings,  regardless  of  conse 
quences,  and  appears  in  the  nick  of  time  with 
his  fleet  to  bar  the  entrance  to  the  bay. 

The  American  vessels  engage  the  two  remain 
ing  battle-ships.  There  is  no  sea  -  room  for 
manosuvring,  and  the  rapid  way  in  which  the 
Yankee  guns  are  served  shows  that  they  are 
more  than  a  match  for  their  huge  enemies. 
The  cruisers  have  closed  in  for  the  death-strug 
gle;  every  weapon  of  modern  warfare  is  being 
employed;  two  ships  of  the  foe  and  one  of  his 
opponent's  have  been  torpedoed,  and  in  an 
other  moment  one  of  ours  rams  their  biggest 
battle-ship.  The  General  on  shore  can  almost 
hear  the  command,  "  Prepare  to  ram."  It  is 
so  quickly  and  skilfully  executed.  The  forts 
have  now  become  inactive,  fearing  to  fire  lest  by 
chance  one  of  their  own  ships  might  be  struck. 
36 


THE    BOMBARDMENT 

The  enemy  suddenly  begins  to  retreat,  leav 
ing  two  of  his  ships  on  the  rocks,  while  an 
other  is  forced  to  strike  the  white  flag. 

Night  has  come  on.  The  sun  has  an  hour  ago 
gone  below  the  western  horizon.  The  evening 
fog-bank  comes  in  and  mingles  with  the  bat 
tle  smoke  about  the  silent  batteries,  which  only 
a  short  time  before  were  the  scene  of  bloodshed 
and  war.  The  brave  defenders  may  sleep  in 
peace  in  their  blankets  and  hammocks.  The 
pride  of  the  enemy  has  been  humbled,  and  the 
beautiful  city  of  San  Francisco  is  safe  from 
torch  and  shell. 


Ill 

A  FIGHT  IN  THE  FOG 
A  Hard-won    Victory 

"  A  LL  hands  to  muster !"  rang  out  from  the 
I\  harsh  throats  of  the  boatswain's  mates 
of  the  American  cruiser,  and  the  crew  came 
tumbling  aft  to  the  quarter-deck.  They  were 
as  fine-looking  a  set  of  bluejackets  as  one  would 
care  to  see,  the  cream  of  the  navy  and  the  naval 
reserve. 

The  new  ship  was  cruising  off  the  coast  of 
Great  Britain  for  the  purpose  of  intercepting 
a  Japanese  war-vessel,  which  was  known  to  have 
recently  left  England,  and  was  on  the  way  to 
join  her  sister  ships  in  her  own  country. 

Every  one  aboard  the  American  ship  was 
wild  to  meet  the  enemy,  and  the  crew  had  no 
fear  of  the  result. 

The  lookout  had  just  reported  smoke  to  the 
eastward,  from  which  direction  the  enemy  was 

expected.    When  all  hands  were  "  up  and  aft," 
38 


A    FIGHT    IN    THE    FOG 

the  Captain  addressed  his  men  upon  the  im 
pending  conflict. 

"  Men,"  he  said,  "  we  are  here  to  fight  the 
most  formidable  of  our  enemy's  cruisers.  She 
is  equal  to  us  in  every  respect.  There  are  no 
chances  in  our  favor.  The  battle  will  depend 
upon  your  coolness  and  courage. 

"  Men  of  the  main  battery,  upon  you  depends 
the  result  of  the  action.  Your  target  is  the 
armored  sides  and  turrets. 

"  Men  of  the  secondary  battery,  your  nerve 
and  endurance  are  to  be  put  to  the  crucial  test. 
Your  guns  must  be  directed  at  the  unannored 
gun  parts  and  torpedo  tubes. 

"  Remember,  all  of  you,  a  lucky  shot  may 
turn  the  tide  of  battle. 

"  Officers  and  men,  the  reputation  of  our  new 
ship  depends  on  you." 

A  few  minutes  later  the  Captain  and  the 
executive  officers  are  upon  the  forward  bridge, 
discussing  the  minor  details  of  the  plan  of 
action,  and  casting  keen  glances  at  the  low 
line  of  black  smoke  on  the  eastern  horizon. 

The  former  is  a  fine-looking  young  officer, 
who  has  been  rapidly  advanced  to  commanding 
rank  through  his  zeal  and  untiring  labors  to 
perfect  the  navy  of  his  country. 

Many  an  article  from  his  pen  on  the  manage- 
39 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

ment  of  a  ship  in  battle  has  been  published  in 
the  scientific  papers  of  America;  but  now  he 
must  put  his  theories  to  test — to  learn  by  expe 
rience,  bitter  or  sweet,  whether  he  merited  the 
commendation  which  his  numerous  articles  on 
naval  science  have  won  for  him. 

The  ship  has  been  cruising  about  in  wait  for 
her  prey  for  over  a  week.  The  crew  have  had 
incessant  drill  and  sub-calibre  target  practice. 
The  plan  of  attack  has  been  discussed  so  often 
that  it  is  known  by  all  the  officers. 

The  ship  is  "  cleared  for  action."  Every 
stanchion  and  boat-davit  has  been  lashed  to  the 
deck.  Every  movable  object  on  the  deck  below 
has  been  sent  to  the  protective-deck  to  avoid,  as 
far  as  possible,  the  danger  from  flying  splinters. 

The  smoke  on  the  horizon  has  approached, 
until  now  it  is  seen  from  the  top  to  come  from 
two  smoke-pipes  framed  by  something  that  looks 
suspiciously  like  two  military  fighting-masts. 

The  crew  are  gathered  on  the  forecastle.  The 
enemy  is  now  in  sight,  and  the  Captain's  glass 
is  upon  her.  A  careful  scrutiny  shows  her  to 
be  a  war-vessel  similar  in  appearance  to  his  own. 
At  a  sign  from  him  the  drummer  beats  to  "  quar 
ters."  This  sound  calls  every  man  to  some 
station.  The  Captain  goes  to  the  conning-tower, 

a   small   heavily   armored   turret   beneath   the 
40 


A    FIGHT    IN    THE    FOG 

bridge.  An  aid  enters  with  him  to  steer  the 
ship  by  his  direction  from  the  wheel  within. 
A  small  opening  near  the  top  gives  the  occii- 
pants  a  view  around  the  horizon,  and  numerous 
speaking-tubes  and  telephones  put  them  in  com 
munication  with  all  the  vital  parts  of  the  ship. 
Crews  of  twelve  men  each  enter  the  turrets  in 
charge  of  an  officer.  Steam  is  turned  on  the 
turret  -  engines.  The  guns  on  the  deck  below 
are  divided  between  two  divisions  of  men,  each 
division  in  charge  of  a  lieutenant,  who  has  an 
ensign  and  midshipman  as  assistants. 

The  men  are  stripped  to  the  waist,  and  their 
guns  are  ready  for  battle;  division  tubs  are 
filled  with  water,  and  the  decks  are  covered  with 
sand.  On  the  berth-deck  hatches  and  scuttles 
are  opened,  tackles  are  hooked,  and  men  are 
hoisting  powder  and  shell  for  the  battery. 

The  torpedo-crews  are  charging  their  deadly 
weapons  with  compressed-air.  Below  the  pro 
tective-deck  are  half -naked  men  in  the  magazines 
and  shell-rooms,  handling  the  missiles  that  are 
soon  to  speed  towards  the  approaching  enemy. 

Down  in  the  depths  of  the  steel  hull  the  fire 
men  feed  the  mighty  furnaces  to  a  white  heat. 
It  is  all  the  same  to  them  now  as  when  the 
monsters  are  engaged  in  a  death-struggle.  The 
sounds  of  the  discharges,  of  the  explosion  of 
41 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

shells,  and  the  cries  of  the  wounded  will  be 
too  distant  and  muffled  to  give  them  an  idea 
of  what  is  going  on  in  the  world  above  them. 
The  first  news  will  come  when  the  terrible  tor 
pedo  explodes  against  the  ship,  sending  them  to 
a.  watery  grave,  or  the  merciless  ram  sinks  into 
the  sides,  or  when  a  heavy  shell  penetrates  one 
of  the  huge  boilers,  dooming  all  hands  in  the 
terriffic  explosion  that  will  follow. 

The  stranger  has  altered  her  course  and  is 
steaming  in  the  direction  of  the  cruiser.  There 
are  her  two  military  masts,  but  no  flag  as  yet  to 
show  her  nationality.  Suddenly  something  flut 
ters  from  her  mast-head.  It  is  the  flag  of  Eng 
land!  There  is  no  time  now  to  consider  what 
must  be  done.  The  ships  are  but  five  miles 
apart,  steaming  for  each  other  at  twenty-knot 
speed.  One  minute  more  and  the  cruisers  will 
be  within  battle-range. 

The  Captain  is  a  man  of  quick  judgment,  and 
his  mind  is  made  up  in  an  instant. 

From  his  point  of  vantage  on  the  bridge  he 
takes  a  careful  look  at  the  stranger  and  then 
at  a  drawing  furnished  by  the  Navy  Depart 
ment.  It  is  the  same  vessel ;  yet  why  should 
she  be  cleared  for  action  if  a  British  cruiser  ? 

Starboard ! 

The  ship  swings  around  in  answer  to  her 
42 


A    FIGHT    IN    THE    FOG 

helm,  and  is  heading  perpendicularly  to  the 
course  of  the  stranger. 

Two  midshipmen  stationed  at  the  range- 
finders  are  pointing  the  delicate  instruments 
towards  the  approaching  ship.  Dials  at 
each  gun  automatically  show  that  the  dis 
tance  is  rapidly  diminishing.  The  marines 
have  taken  their  rifles  to  the  superstructure- 
deck,  and  are  crouching  behind  a  breastwork 
constructed  of  closely  lashed  hammocks.  The 
doctors  have  removed  their  medicines  and  in 
struments  to  the  ward-room,  and  the  long  mess- 
tables  are  in  readiness  to  receive  the  dead  and 
wounded.  The  chief  quartermaster  stands  ready 
aft  with  a  spare  ensign  to  hoist  over  the  ship 
should  his  country's  flag  be  shot  away. 

When  the  ranger-finder  registers  three  and 
a  half  miles  the  Captain  orders  the  forward 
turret  to  fire  at  the  stranger.  The  air  is  rent 
immediately  by  the  blast  of  the  discharge. 

The  crew  wait  breathlessly  while  the  shells 
reach  the  height  of  their  trajectories.  One 
strikes  the  sea  short,  while  the  other  strikes  the 
stranger  and  explodes. 

The  irrevocable  step  is  taken.  England's 
flag  has  been  fired  upon. 

All  hands  wait  to  see  what  the  stranger  will 

do.     The  range-finder  shows  three  miles. 
43 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

A  brown  mist  shoots  from  the  stranger's  for 
ward  turret;  at  the  same  time  the  British  flag 
is  hauled  down,  and  the  flag  of  Japan  floats 
defiance  in  its  stead.  Two  10-inch  shells  fall 
but  a  few  yards  short  of  the  cruiser,  and  a  mo 
ment  later  the  sound  of  the  discharge  reaches 
the  ears  of  her  crew. 

Two  and  a  half  miles  registers  the  range- 
finder,  and  all  the  officers  are  directed  to  open 
fire.  Shot  after  shot  belches  forth  from  the 
cruiser's  broadside  and  speeds  toward  the 
enemy,  exploding  against  her  armor  and  top- 
sides. 

As  yet  tne  American  ship  has  not  been  hit, 
but  now  the  vapor  from  the  enemy's  smoke 
less  powder  shoots  from  the  muzzles  of  a  score 
of  guns  not  two  thousand  yards  away,  and 
two  tons  of  steel  are  launched  on  their  deadly 
flight. 

The  havoc  aboard  the  cruiser  will  never  be 
forgotten.  The  armor  is  pierced,  the  topsides 
are  riddled.  The  carnage  among  the  unpro 
tected  men  on  the  gun-deck  and  superstructure 
is  awful.  But  worst  of  all,  many  men  not 
wounded  by  shot  and  shell  are  laid  insensible  by 
some  unseen  power. 

Skulonite  is  the  word  that  passes  from  lip 
to  lip.  The  poisonous  gas  is  the  aftermath  of 

44 


A    FIGHT    IN    THE    FOG 

the  explosion  of  shells  loaded  with  this  deadly 
compound. 

The  men  are  carried  from  compartments 
filled  with  the  vapor,  and  the  air-tight  doors  are 
closed  to  prevent  the  spreading  of  the  noxious 
fumes  to  the  magazines  and  engine-rooms. 

The  cruisers  are  now  but  fifteen  hundred 
yards  apart,  steaming  in  opposite  directions. 
As  they  circle  about  one  another  like  mighty 
birds  of  prey  they  are  fast  approaching  within 
range  at  which  a  new  weapon  will  be  launched 
against  the  other's  steel  hull,  the  silent  but  re 
lentless  torpedo.  Then  the  ram  will  soon  crash 
through  one  of  the  cruisers.  Which  will  it  be  ? 

The  American  fire  is  becoming  more  desul 
tory  as  the  crew  of  one  gun  after  another  suc 
cumbs  to  the  terrible  influence  of  the  skulonite. 

Suddenly  a  steel  fishlike  weapon  is  seen  shoot 
ing  from  the  enemy's  side.  The  Captain  of  the 
cruiser  watches  with  breathless  anxiety  the  line 
of  bubbles  on  the  water's  surface,  as  the  tor 
pedo  approaches  his  ship  at  a  terrific  speed. 
It  suddenly  swerves,  and  goes  but  a  few  yards 
clear  of  her  stern. 

The  cruiser's  breast-torpedo  is  launched  at 
the  enemy.  With  a  splash  it  leaps  from  her 
side  and  speeds  on  its  errand  of  destruction. 

The  bubbles  in  its  wake  show  the  aim  is  good. 
45 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

It  must  strike.  But  no,  it  has  gone  under  the 
enemy's  ram. 

What  is  that  hazy  line  to  windward,  but  half 
a  mile  distant?  It  is  a  most  welcome  sight  to 
the  brave  man  in  the  conning-tower,  and  he 
heads  his  crippled  ship  for  the  oncoming  mist. 
Soon  she  is  swallowed  up  in  the  dense  fog-bank, 
and  shut  out  from  her  enemy's  view. 

The  enemy  gives  chase,  as  the  American  com 
mander  had  expected.  He  turns  the  trumpet 
of  his  sound-detector  in  the  direction  of  the 
pursuing  vessel,  and  from  its  dial  ascertains 
her  course. 

The  enemy  is  still  firing,  but  the  American 
guns  have  ceased  to  roar,  and  "  silence  fore  and 
aft "  is  commanded  of  the  crew.  The  fleeing 
ship  goes  on  until  her  Captain  is  sure  that  his 
foe  has  entered  the  fog,  then  the  helm  is  put 
hard  over,  and  the  ship  swings  around  until 
the  instrument  indicates  that  the  other  is  dead 
ahead. 

Again  the  Captain  is  hopeful  of  success,  as 
he  realizes  that  the  enshrouding  mist  and  the 
instrument  before  him  turn  the  advantage  in 
his  favor.  His  eye  is  fixed  on  the  pointer  of 
the  dial,  ever  responsive  to  the  electric  current 
set  up  by  the  sound-waves  beating  upon  the 

sensitive  diaphragm  in  the  trumpet.     The  ship 
46 


A    FIGHT    IN    THE    FOG 

leaps  forward  until  he  hears  through  the  ear 
piece  the  throh  of  the  enemy's  engines.  His 
heart  beats  fast,  hut  he  knows  that  he  must  he 
self -controlled. 

The  ships  are  coming  together  bows  on.  The 
American  commander  causes  his  ship  to  swing 
to  starboard  a  little,  so  as  to  point  her  bow  away 
from  the  approaching  enemy. 

The  instant  for  action  has  come.  He  star 
boards  his  helm  in  order  to  lay  his  ship  across 
the  course  of  the  enemy.  "  Prepare  to  ram  " 
is  telephoned  by  the  aide  at  his  side.  The  ship 
swings  around.  The  pointer  swerves  from  the 
direction  of  her  starboard  bow  to  dead  ahead. 
Has  he  been  too  late  ?  Will  he  pass  across  her 
wake,  or  will  he  cross  her  path  in  time  to  re 
ceive  her  ram  prow  in  his  own  broadside  ?  The 
needle  points  ahead  when  the  huge  side  of  the 
enemy  looms  up  through  the  fog. 

In  a  moment,  with  a  terrific  shock,  the  ram 
bow  of  the  American  cruiser  enters  the  side  of 
the  enemy,  cleaving  armor  and  deck-plating  as 
though  it  were  wood. 

Slowly  the  victor  backs  off  from  her  sinking 
enemy. 

The  rammed  ship  commences  to  deliver 
death-dealing  shots ;  but  she  is  fast  sinking. 

She  can  no  longer  elevate  her  guns  enough 
47 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

to  strike  the  American.  She  has  heeled  too  far. 
The  firing  ceases. 

All  the  boats  that  are  not  disabled  are  manned 
and  ready  to  render  assistance  to  the,  vanquished. 

~Not  a  moment  too  soon.  The  ill-fated  ship 
heels  to  starboard,  her  stern  rising  high  in  the 
air,  her  screws  thrashing  the  fog  in  their  up 
ward  flight,  the  flag  under  which  her  brave  de 
fenders  had  so  well  fought  still  waving  at  her 
trucks,  and  she  slowly  sinks  beneath  the  waves, 
sending  up  columns  of  water  from  her  hatch 
ways,  and  engulfing  her  crew  in  the  mighty 
suction. 

But  few  survivors  were  saved  of  the  few  hun 
dred  that  had  had  victory  so  nearly  in  their 
grasp. 


IV 

THE   BATTLE   OFF   THE   HOOK 

How  the  North  Atlantic  Squadron  Met  the  Enemy 

ON  a  morning  in  June,  19 — ,  the  North 
Atlantic  Squadron  is  seen  steaming  out 
of  New  York  Harbor.  It  passes  the  batteries 
on  Sandy  Hook,  and  stands  out  to  sea.  The 
white  paint  that  was  wont  to  glisten  in  the 
summer  sunshine  has  given  place  to  a  dull  gray 
that  makes  the  mighty  engines  of  war  look  even 
more  formidable. 

Every  ship  is  cleared  for  action.  Boat  davits, 
awning  stanchions,  and  every  movable  thing 
have  been  removed  out  of  the  train  of  the  big 
guns.  But  few  boats  can  be  seen  on  their 
cradles.  The  first  six  ships  in  the  column  are 
huge  first-class  battle-ships,  their  turrets  loom 
ing  up  ominously  with  their  heavy  guns.  Fol 
lowing  this  magnificent  array  of  guns  and  armor 
are  four  first-class  cruisers,  their  graceful  curves 
making  the  battle-ships  look  all  the  more  for- 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

midable  by  comparison.  Ten  swift  -  moving 
torpedo-boats  are  steaming  along  by  the  side 
of  their  big  sisters,  their  every  move  showing 
their  impatience  at  being  kept  at  so  low  a 
pace. 

Standing  on  the  superstructure  of  one  of  the 
battle-ships,  whose  fortunes  we  will  follow,  is 
a  young  officer.  The  gold  anchor  on  the  collar 
of  his  blue  service  coat  shows  he  is  at  the  foot 
of  that  long  ladder  of  rank  of  which  Admiral 
is  the  top  rung.  He  is  leaning  against  the 
hammock-meetings;  one  hand  is  resting  upon 
the  stock  of  a  rapid-firing  gun,  and  in  the  other 
he  holds  a  pair  of  binocles,  through  which  he 
has  just  been  looking.  What  are  his  thoughts 
as  he  gazes  wistfully  to  the  eastward,  then  at 
the  great  hull  ahead  of  him,  and  again  at  the 
vessels  that  follow  in  his  wake?  Is  he  only 
regretting  that  the  happy  life  of  the  great 
metropolis  is  to  be  denied  him  for  a  few  months, 
and  that  now  hard  work  and  plenty  of  drills 
will  take  the  place  of  the  rounds  of  gayety 
incidental  to  a  life  in  New  York?  ~Nol  His 
thoughts  are  upon  far  more  serious  subjects; 
they  are  of  war — cruel,  pitiless  war,  with  a 
nation  the  equal,  if  not  the  superior,  in  naval 
prowess  of  the  United  States. 

But  two  short  hours  ago  a  carrier-pigeon  had 
50 


THE    BATTLE    OFF    THE     HOOK 

fluttered  down  to  its  cote  on  the  flag-ship  with 
the  thrilling  information  from  one  of  the  scouts 
that  the  long-looked-for  but  unwelcome  fleet  of 
the  enemy  had  been  sighted,  bearing  down  in 
force  on  the  greatest  and  richest  city  on  the 
American  continent. 

The  forts,  with  the  aid  of  the  ships,  were 
considered  strong  enough  to  repulse  the  on 
slaught  of  the  enemy's  fleet  off  the  entrance  to 
the  harbor;  but  it  was  deemed  better  to  cripple 
the  antagonists  in  a  great  battle  at  sea.  The 
Admiral  felt  confident  that  his  force  was  as 
powerful  as  any  the  enemy  could  send,  and  was 
anxious  to  test  his  ships  and  the  courage  of  his 
men  in  a  great  sea-fight  off  the  Hook. 

Over  two  weeks  have  passed  since  the  Am 
bassador  of  the  enemy  had  been  given  his  pass 
ports  and  had  sailed  for  home ;  but  so  far  apart 
were  the  belligerent  countries  that  no  hostilities 
had  taken  place. 

The  news  of  the  sailing  of  a  fleet  had  flashed 
across  the  wires  between  the  two  continents,  but 
so  secretly  had  the  preparations  been  made 
that  the  agents  of  the  United  States  had  failed 
to  find  out  the  number  and  force  of  the  ex 
pedition.  Scouts  in  the  shape  of  fast  cruisers 
have  been  scouring  the  seas  along  the  Atlantic 
seaboard  ever  since  war  had  been  declared; 

5  51 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

their  duty  was  to  find  out  the  number  and  force 
of  the  enemy,  and  to  report  by  carrier-pigeon 
to  the  Admiral;  but  until  now  nothing  has 
broken  the  monotony  of  their  patrol.  The  tele 
graph  flashed  the  news  to  Washington  and  all 
over  the  country.  The  ships  at  Newport  and 
at  Hampton  Roads  were  at  once  ordered  to 
the  scene  of  the  impending  conflict.  At  the 
first  warning  that  the  country  might  be  en 
gulfed  in  a  mighty  struggle  with  a  powerful 
nation  all  the  serviceable  ships  on  foreign  sta 
tion,  in  so  far  as  was  possible,  were  ordered 
home  with  despatch,  and  now,  on  the  day  of  the 
first  trial  of  strength,  the  United  States  had 
amassed  a  large  number  of  ships  on  its  more 
important  coast,  where,  on  account  of  the  dis 
tance  from  the  resources  of  the  enemy,  would 
be  the  first  point  of  attack. 

Smoke  on  the  port  bow  of  the  leading  ship  is 
soon  made  out  to  come  from  the  Newport  squad 
ron,  hastening  to  join  the  New  York  fleet.  By 
noon  the  ships  from  Hampton  Roads  have  added 
their  guns  to  the  others. 

Slowly  the  big  fleet  moves  eastward.  Soon 
a  scout  is  made  out  bearing  down  on  the  ad 
vancing  column.  A  torpedo-boat  goes  out  to 
meet  her,  returning  with  a  message  to  the  Ad 
miral,  telling  of  the  latest  movements  of  the 
52 


THE    BATTLE    OFF    THE    HOOK 

enemy,  the  scout  returning  to  its  vigil  near  the 
intruding  fleet. 

The  smoke  of  three  vessels  is  made  out  about 
sunset  to  the  eastward.  The  intelligence  is  soon 
signalled  to  the  entire  fleet.  If  it  is  the  advance- 
guard  of  the  enemy,  will  it  force  a  night  en 
gagement?  A  modern  battle  under  a  bright 
sun  is  uncertain  and  horrible  enough,  but  what 
will  it  be  when  the  blackness  of  the  night  lends 
more  horror  to  the  terrible  struggle,  and  leads 
to  mistaking  friend  for  foe  ?  But  an  hour  dis 
pels  any  such  dread.  A  fast  cruiser  is  made  out, 
her  blistered  smoke-stack  showing  the  mighty 
effort  her  boilers  have  made  to  help  her  escape 
the  enemy,  and  but  a  short  distance  astern  of 
her  are  two  of  the  enemy's  cruisers  just  giving 
up  the  chase ;  and  none  too  soon,  for  two  Ameri 
can  ships  have  been  signalled  to  follow  the 
baffled  cruisers,  and  their  rams  are  cutting  the 
water  at  full  speed  in  obedience  to  the  signal. 
Night  settles  down  over  this  powerful  display 
of  human  handicraft.  The  crews  of  all  the 
guns  are  near  their  stations,  to  be  on  hand  at 
a  moment's  notice.  But  few  eyes  close  in  sleep. 
How  many  could  on  the  brink  of  such  an  awful 
ordeal  as  a  first  battle?  The  squadron  has 
slowed  to  steerage  way,  and  the  torpedo-boats 
are  patrolling  for  fear  one  of  their  foreign 
53 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

sisters  will  steal,  under  cover  of  the  night,  upon 
the  almost  motionless  fleet,  and  render  a  good 
account  of  its  missiles  of  war.  The  sentries 
and  lookouts  on  the  big  ships  are  peering 
through  the  darkness  in  dreaded  anticipation  of 
seeing  a  black  hull,  small  but  terrible,  loom  up 
out  of  the  night  but  a  few  hundred  yards  away. 
No  lights  are  visible  on  the  ships,  and  so  dark 
is  the  night  that  the  huge  gray  hulls  can  scarce 
ly  be  seen  from  one  another.  The  search-lights 
are  ready  to  be  used  at  an  instant's  notice,  and 
the  rapid-fire  and  machine  guns  are  as  vigilant 
as  the  sentries. 

More  scouts  join  the  squadron  during  the 
night,  bringing  information  as  to  the  movements 
and  strength  of  the  enemy.  The  pursuing 
cruisers  are  the  last  to  join,  having  been  enabled, 
by  their  superior  speed,  to  hover  about  the  ene 
my  almost  all  night.  The  enemy  is  reported  to 
be  forty  miles  to  the  eastward,  steaming  at  the 
rate  of  nine  knots  an  hour.  Early  morn,  then, 
will  bring  the  two  fleets  within  battle  -  range. 
Many  eyes  are  now  scanning  the  horizon  for  the 
first  evidence  of  the  oncoming  flotilla.  Slowly 
the  thin  streak  of  dawn  on  the  eastern  horizon 
widens  and  spreads  over  the  sky. 

"Sail  ho!" 

It  comes  from  the  foretop  of  the  flag-ship, 
54 


THE    BATTLE    OFF    THE    HOOK 

and  very  soon  the  smoke  of  the  advancing  fleet 
can  be  seen  stretching  for  a  long  length  over 
the  eastern  horizon. 

Bright-colored  flags  are  run  up  on  the  flag 
ship.  It  is  the  signal  for  general  quarters,  and 
the  drums  throughout  the  fleet  can  be  heard 
beating  the  roll.  The  decks  of  the  ships  are  now 
a  scene  that  would  thrill  the  coldest  heart. 
Men  are  hurrying  here  and  there,  casting  off 
lashings,  carrying  powder  and  shell,  and  mak 
ing  the  final  preparations  for  a  great  battle.  In 
an  incredibly  short  time  the  crews  are  standing 
at  their  posts,  everything  is  in  readiness,  buckets 
of  water  are  at  hand  at  the  guns,  the  fire  hose, 
like  a  huge  serpent,  is  stretched  over  the  sanded 
decks. 

Inside  the  turrets,  the  men  are  stripped  to  the 
waist,  their  brawny  muscles  tense  in  the  strain 
of  suspense.  The  officers  are  at  their  posts,  in 
their  dark-blue  uniforms,  sometimes  showing 
the  nervousness  of  suspense,  but  alert  and  ready. 

In  the  forward  13-inch  turret  of  the  battle 
ship  stands  our  young  lieutenant,  and  by  his  side 
his  assistant,  a  young  naval  cadet,  almost  fresh 
from  the  Academy.  Their  only  duty  will  be 
to  fight  the  pair  of  guns,  and  hurl  the  half-ton 
shells  as  accurately  and  as  rapidly  as  possible. 

The  officers  in  the  magazines  are  at  their 
55 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

stations  on  the  platforms.  During  the  engage 
ment  they  will  encourage  the  men  and  super 
intend  as  rapid  a  supply  of  ammunition  as 
the  gunners  will  need.  The  officers  and  men 
in  the  engine  and  fire  room  are  working  earnest 
ly,  getting  the  pressure  in  the  mighty  boilers  to 
a  limit  that  has  never  been  reached  since  their 
trial  trips.  The  progress  of  the  fight  is  not 
their  concern.  They  will  work  on,  seeing  noth 
ing  but  the  glare  of  the  white-hot  coals  as  the 
doors  are  opened  to  feed  the  furnaces,  and  the 
wonderfully  made  engines  forcing  the  propel 
lers  at  a  speed  scarcely  seen  before. 

To  them  the  muffled  sounds  from  the  world 
above  will  be  the  only  indications  of  the  bat 
tle  that  is  raging  over  their  heads.  In  their 
safety  behind  armor  and  below  the  water-line 
they  will  be  spared  the  sight  of  blood  and  from 
seeing  the  mangled  remnants  of  their  friends 
and  shipmates.  But  still  their  courage  and 
nerve  will  be  tested  severely;  they  will  not 
know  at  what  moment  a  torpedo,  or  the  ram  of 
an  enemy's  ship,  or  even  a  well-directed  shell, 
will  take  them  all,  like  rats  in  a  trap,  many 
fathoms  down  into  the  ocean,  the  ship  they  have 
served  so  faithfully  forming  an  honorable  tomb 
for  its  brave  defenders. 

Very  soon  the  smoke  sighted  is  made  out  to 
56 


THE    BATTLE    OFF    THE    HOOK 

be  from  some  of  the  enemy's  scouts;  they  have 
turned  about,  and  are  retiring  before  the  slow 
ly  advancing  Americans. 

The  sun  is  now  a  half-hour  high,  hanging 
like  a  ball  of  molten  metal  only  a  short  dis 
tance  above  the  horizon,  and  its  reflection  in 
the  placid  ocean  is  as  bright  as  itself. 

Providence  has  thrown  a  heavy  weight  into 
the  balance  against  the  defending  fleet;  its  gun 
ners  will  fight  with  the  sun  in  their  eyes.  The 
American  sailors  are  not  long  in  finding  this 
out,  and  many  a  rough  voice  in  turret  or  behind 
shield  is  heard  raised  in  condemnation  of  their 
luck. 

The  sun  is  scarcely  an  hour  high  when  the 
whole  of  the  invading  fleet  is  in  sight.  A  grand 
spectacle  it  makes  to  the  American  Admiral  as, 
with  a  face  flushed  with  pride,  he  gazes  on  an 
enemy  worthy  of  his  steel. 

Very  heavy  responsibilities  will  rest  upon 
his  shoulders  this  day.  On  his  judgment  will 
hang  the  fate  of  this  magnificent  fleet.  His 
orders  will  be  obeyed  implicitly.  ~No  questions 
will  be  asked  by  commanding  officers.  Their 
duty  will  be,  like  the  "  six  hundred  "  at  Bala- 
klava,  "  to  do  or  die,"  and,  if  his  judgment  is 
in  error,  it  may  be  both. 

The  opposing  fleet  is  in  double  line,  stretch- 
57 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

ing  nearly  two  miles  along  the  eastern  horizon. 
The  glass  reveals  the  battle-ships,  eight  mon 
strous  hulls,  forming  the  leading  line,  while 
behind  them  are  as  many  fast  armored  cruisers, 
while  still  farther  to  the  eastward  hover  a 
number  of  smaller  cruisers  and  torpedo-boats. 

The  American  squadron  has  now  formed  in 
echelon,  and  in  beautiful  order ;  each  ship,  keep 
ing  her  distance  as  if  on  drill,  is  heading  for 
the  enemy's  fleet.  In  the  line  of  battle  the  Ad 
miral  has  placed  his  most  powerful  fighting- 
ships,  and  in  this  it  seems  the  tacticians  of 
both  the  belligerent  countries  have  agreed. 
First  in  the  column  are  the  battle-ships,  and 
then  follow  six  armored  cruisers,  the  queens  of 
the  sea,  with  speed  enough  to  refuse  battle  from 
any  vessel  afloat,  but  with  guns  powerful  enough 
to  penetrate  the  armor  of  most  battle-ships. 

Nearer  and  nearer  the  two  mighty  powers  ap 
proach  the  distance  when  the  thunder  of  ord 
nance  and  the  destruction  by  the  steel  missiles 
will  convert  this  beautiful  sight  into  a  bloody 
battle-field.  The  officers  in  the  forward  turret 
of  our  battle-ship  are  standing,  all  expectant, 
at  their  guns.  The  lieutenant  is  at  his  station 
on  the  platform,  reversing-lever  in  hand,  mov 
ing  it  but  a  little  at  a  time  as  his  ship  forges 
ahead,  thus  swinging  the  great  turret  around 


THE    BATTLE    OFF    THE    HOOK 

so  as  to  keep  one  of  the  enemy  in  his  sights. 
In  his  other  hand  he  holds  the  electric  key,  the 
pressure  of  which  will  hurl  the  contents  of  both 
guns  on  their  mission  of  war. 

The  naval  cadet  is  on  the  platform  on  the 
other  side  from  his  superior  officer;  his  duty 
on  the  turret  floor  is  over  for  the  present,  until 
the  death-dealing  shells  on  the  floor  of  the  tur 
ret  have  been  sent  on  their  flight  toward  the 
enemy,  making  room  for  more  from  the  maga 
zine  below.  They  see,  through  the  narrow 
apertures  in  the  solid  steel,  the  fierce-looking 
black  hulls  of  the  foreign  ships  steaming  rapid 
ly  forward  as  if  unconscious  that  a  fleet  equally 
as  powerful  is  directly  in  front  of  them,  ready 
to  dispute  every,  inch  of  the  watery  waste  be 
tween  there  and  the  coveted  Hook.  A  signal 
is  hoisted  on  the  flag-ship  and  quickly  hauled 
down,  and  the  next  minute  the  formation  of 
the  American  squadron  has  been  changed  to 
column,  and  is  heading  to  attack  the  left  flank 
of  the  oncoming  fleet.  The  speaking-tube  at 
the  side  of  the  younger  officer  tells  him  the 
range  —  6000  yards.  The  minutes  drag  by. 
The  gap  between  the  belligerents  is  minutely 
decreasing.  The  sight  -  bars  are  set  at  5500 
yards,  extreme  range,  yet  no  gun  speaks  to 

break  the  monotone  of  the  peaceful  scene. 
59 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

The  officers'  eyes  are  glued  to  the  flank  ships, 
momentarily  expecting,  almost  wishing,  to  see 
the  bright  flash  followed  by  the  loud  roar  that 
will  break  the  strain.  Suddenly  the  enemy's 
helms  are  put  to  port.  Each  ship  changes  her 
course  eight  points  to  starboard,  and,  in  two 
long  columns,  appears  to  be  running  away 
from  the  advancing  Americans.  A  cry  of  sur 
prise  and  indignation  escapes  the  younger  of 
ficer  as  he  sees  this  manoeuvre.  But  the  other, 
who  is  a  keener  tactician,  quickly  sees  through 
the  strategic  move  and  tells  his  aid. 

The  ruse  is  to  trap  the  American  squadron 
to  at  once  starboard  its  helm  and  follow  in 
chase,  thus  giving  the  enemy  the  advantage  of 
fire. 

What  will  the  American  Admiral  do  ?  There 
are  able  tacticians  about  him  to  give  advice. 
The  long  column  of  dull-gray  hulls  keeps  its 
course.  On  it  goes,  while  on  the  port  bow  is 
the  retreating  enemy.  Slowly  the  bearing  of 
the  opposing  fleet  draws  aft.  It  is  now  on  the 
beam. 

Crash!  The  leading  ship  has  opened  fire. 
Trembling  with  the  excitement  felt  by  all 
at  the  commencement  of  an  engagement,  the 
men  in  the  turret  peer  through  the  apertures 
to  see  the  effect.  A  large  column  of  water 
60 


THE    BATTLE    OFF    THE    HOOK 

near  the  last  ship  shows  that  the  aim  was 
poor. 

Slowly  the  13-inch  turret  of  our  battle-ship 
swings  about  in  the  direction  of  the  rear  ship 
of  the  enemy.  The  target  is  now  near  to  the 
line  of  sight.  The  key  itches  in  the  hands  of 
the  lieutenant;  a  slight  pressure  will  hurl  the 
contents  of  those  two  wicked  cylinders  on  their 
deadly  errand.  The  turret  is  motionless  for 
a  moment.  As  the  ship  steams  ahead  she  brings 
her  enemy  in  the  sights ;  the  next  moment  the 
turret  is  filled  with  the  mighty  concussion  of 
the  discharge,  and  a  ton  of  steel  has  crashed 
through  one  of  the  enemy's  battle-ships,  leaving 
death  and  destruction  in  its  path. 

Slowly  the  retreating  enemy  draws  abaft  the 
beam.  The  two  fleets  seem  to  be  running  away 
from  each  other. 

Signals  are  run  up  on  the  flag-ship,  and  the 
American  fleet  has,  a.  minute  afterwards,  turned 
to  port,  and,  in  as  beautiful  a  line  as  a  tactician 
would  wish  to  see,  is  steering  in  chase. 

The  Admiral  has  been  prompt  to  take  the  ad 
vantage  offered  by  the  manoauvres  of  the  op 
posing  fleet,  and  the  signal  to  concentrate  the 
fire  on  the  rear  vessels  of  the  enemy  is  quickly 
made. 

The  heavy  roar  of  the  great  guns,  and  the 
61 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

quick,  sharp  reports  of  the  rapid  -  fire  guns, 
lend  additional  color  to  this  mighty  struggle  of 
skill  and  strength. 

The  enemy  has  formed  column,  and  now  ex 
ecutes  head  of  column  left  turn.  One  after 
another  the  invading  ships  bring  their  broad 
sides  to  bear  on  the  fast-approaching  line. 

Shell  after  shell  goes  screeching  on  its  way 
to  pierce  armor  and  slaughter  human  beings  in 
this  game  called  war. 

Fast  and  furious  becomes  the  fire  of  the 
enemy,  and  terrible  is  the  execution  on  board 
the  American  ships. 

The  foreign  Admiral  sees  he  has  been  check 
mated,  and  it  will  cost  him  dear,  for  the  Ameri 
can  line  will  charge  through  his  fleet,  leaving 
destruction  in  its  path.  He  is  powerless  to  pre 
vent  it.  All  that  is  left  him  now  is  to  do  as 
much  damage  as  possible  before  his  column  is 
broken.  Nearer  and  nearer  the  two  fleets  come 
together.  Some  of  the  black  hulls  have  headed 
about  and  are  ready  to  receive,  bows  on,  the  im 
pending  charge.  Others  are  fleeing  from  the 
scene  of  the  unavoidable  catastrophe.  Still  the 
two  fleets  keep  up  a  murderous  fire,  and  an  oc 
casional  torpedo  is  fired,  as  is  shown  by  the  line 
of  bubbles,  going  harmlessly  between  the  ap 
proaching  gray  ships. 

62 


THE    BATTLE    OFF    THE    HOOK 

There  is  no  smoke  to  hide  the  dreadful  scene 
from  the  eyes  of  the  remnants  of  the  two  fleets. 
Five  of  the  enemy  and  two  of  the  Americans 
have  sunk  beneath  the  waves  with  terrible 
wounds  in  their  sides.  The  fight  has  now 
become  general.  The  formation  of  the  fleets 
has  been  broken.  Every  ship  is  fighting  for 
itself.  The  cruisers  and  torpedo-boats  of  each 
belligerent  move  up  from  their  stations  in  the 
reserve  line  and  join  in  the  engagement,  render 
ing  assistance  to  their  disabled  ships.  Our 
battle-ship  has  engaged  with  a  battle-ship  of 
equal  armor  and  armament,  and  theirs  is  a 
bloody  struggle.  The  flag-ship  is  fighting  at 
close  quarters  with  the  enemy's  flag-ship.  The 
fight  rages  on.  Now  and  then  a  white  flag  ap 
pears  on  one  of  the  ships,  and  the  firing  ceases 
in  that  quarter.  A  number  on  both  sides  have 
been  sacrificed  by  the  ram  and  torpedo.  The 
enemy's  flag  -  ship,  in  a  disabled  condition,  is 
steering  away  from  the  scene  of  her  defeat. 
The  remaining  black  ships  that  have  not  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  the  Americans  follow,  firing 
as  they  withdraw. 

The  American  Admiral  has  hoisted  the  sig 
nal  to  retire,  and  the  fleet  is  heading  from  the 
retreating  enemy.  When  night  again  comes  on 
the  fight  is  a  thing  of  the  past.  The  battle- 

63 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

scarred  gray  hulls  are  at  anchor  inside  the  Hook, 
while  one  hundred  miles  to  the  eastward  a  fleet 
is  slowly  wending  its  way  towards  the  port  it 
had  left  with  so  much  confidence  only  ten  days 
before. 


HARRY  BORDEN'S  NAVAL  MONSTER 
A  Ship  of  the  Air 

IT  was  a  bright  and  beautiful  morning  in 
June,  1927.  The  war  between  Venezuela  and 
England  had  been  in  progress  just  three  weeks, 
and  every  one  was  wondering  why  the  big 
monarchy  had  not  whipped  the  little  republic 
off  the  face  of  the  earth.  But  the  resources 
of  the  South-American  country  had  been  un 
derestimated,  and  so  had  the  immense  difficul 
ties  which  confronted  England  in  her  endeavor 
to  carry  on  an  offensive  war  at  an  almost  in 
accessible  distance  from  her  most  trustworthy 
sources  of  supplies,  and  in  a  climate  which 
was  formidable  to  her  men.  She  had  succeeded 
in  landing  a  small  force  of  trained  soldiers, 
fresh  from  her  latest  campaign  against  the 
Ameer  of  Afghanistan,  who  had  set  up  a  new 
boundary-line  beyond  Herat,  and  was,  conse- 
65 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

quently,  in  hot  water  with  both  England  and 
Russia. 

These  trained  Indian  curry-eaters  had  pene 
trated  a  vast  forest  in  the  interior  and  had  never 
come  out,  and  it  was  currently  reported  that 
half  of  them  had  perished  in  a  swamp,  and  the 
other  half  had  been  destroyed  by  fevers  and 
cobras. 

A  strong  fleet,  under  command  of  Vice- 
Admiral  Sir  Wallace  Bruce,  had  been  scattered 
by  adverse  winds,  and  two  of  the  ships  had 
fallen  in  with  powerful  Venezuelan  armor-clads, 
and  had  been  most  impertinently  sent  to  the 
bottom.  Others  had  sunk  three  Venezuelan 
war-ships,  but  the  little  republic  had  three  bet 
ter  ones  afloat  inside  of  a  week,  and  experts 
said  that  they  looked  very  French. 

The  war  had  broken  out  over  England's  high 
handed  occupation  of  an  insignificant  island 
off  the  Venezuelan  coast.  The  Venezuelans  had 
been  amazed  by  the  proceeding,  but  the  Marquis 
of  Wintergreen,  the  Foreign  Secretary,  had  at 
once  declared  that  the  island  had  been  con 
quered  and  attached  to  England  by  Sir  Francis 
Drake  in  the  course  of  his  first  voyage  to  the 
West  Indies.  As  Mr.  Froude  and  other  Eng 
lish  historians  had  proved  that  Drake  was  little 
better  than  a  pirate,  this  made  every  one  laugh, 

06 


HARRY  BORDEN'S  NAVAL  MONSTER 

except  the  Venezuelans,  who  said  they  were 
going  to  fight ;  and  they  did. 

As  soon  as  war  was  declared,  the  President 
of  the  United  States,  on  the  advice  of  the  Sec 
retary  of  State,  called  an  extra  session  of  Con 
gress,  and  the  legislative  halls  at  Washington 
so  rang  with  patriotic  speeches  about  the  Mon 
roe  Doctrine  that  certain  New  York  newspapers 
got  out  extras  every  two  hours,  day  and  night, 
and  had  illuminated  bulletins  covering  the  en 
tire  front  of  the  building.  Congress  at  length 
declared  that  the  United  States  must  act  as  an 
ally  of  Venezuela,  whereupon  one  paper  printed 
itself  in  red,  white,  and  blue,  and  another  de 
spatched  correspondents  by  special  balloon  to 
South  America.  The  President  ordered  the  en 
tire  National  Guard  into  the  service  of  the 
United  States,  and  the  various  regiments  at 
once  repaired  to  their  camps  of  instruction  and 
began  field  drills.  It  was  expected  that  they 
would  be  fully  equipped  and  prepared  for  ser 
vice  at  the  front  in  about  two  months.  The 
naval  militia  was  also  ordered  out,  and  im 
mediately  began  a  series  of  cruises  alongshore 
in  open  boats,  landing  and  sending  signals  in 
every  direction  every  four  hours.  The  officers 
clamored  for  coast-defence  vessels  to  man,  but 
there  were  only  four  such  ships,  and  they  were 
6  67 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

all  in  dry-docks  undergoing  repairs  that  would 
take  three  months  to  complete.  The  Secretary 
of  the  Navy  issued  orders  to  the  Admiral  to 
get  the  North  and  South  Atlantic  squadrons  to 
the  Venezuelan  coast  as  quickly  as  possible,  and 
the  Admiral  answered  that  he  would  be  ready 
to  sail  by  the  end  of  August. 

As  soon  as  the  action  of  Congress  had  been 
taken,  Harry  Borden,  of  Tickle  Kiver,  went 
by  express  train  to  Washington.  In  the  ob 
scure  sea-coast  village  of  Tickle  River  Harry 
was  called  a  genius,  and  it  was  said  that  he  had 
invented  things  which  would  be  worth  millions 
to  the  government  in  such  an  emergency  as 
that  which  had  now  arisen.  It  was  to  lay  before 
the  Secretary  of  War  one  of  these  inventions 
that  the  young  man  had  gone  to  the  capital. 
He  had  exhibited  a  small  working-model  of 
his  contrivance  to  several  wealthy  men  of  his 
native  State,  and  they  had  forthwith  invested 
enough  money  in  it  to  enable  the  young  inventor 
to  build  a  full-fledged  machine,  and  to  go  to  see 
the  Secretary  about  its  employment  in  the  im 
pending  conflict.  Harry  Borden  was  a  good 
talker,  but  he  could  not  talk  the  government  of 
the  United  States  into  prompt  action. 

"  My  young  friend,"  said  the  Secretary,  "  I 
am  sure  that  your  invention  will  prove  of  in- 
68 


HARRY  BORDEN'S  NAVAL  MONSTER 

estimable  value  to  the  United  States  in  time  of 
war." 

"  It's  the  time  of  war  now,  isn't  it  ?"  said 
Harry. 

"  Yes,  yes,  to  be  sure ;  but  this  is  a  matter 
which  must  be  laid  before  Congress,  and  a  bill 
must  be  introduced  regarding  it.  I  should  ad 
vise  you  to  see  the  Congressman  from  your 
district  about  that.  I  will  give  you  a  letter  to 
him  saying  that  I  heartily  approve  of  your  ma 
chine." 

"  But,  sir,  while  all  this  is  going  on  we  are 
losing  valuable  time.  My  machine  ought  to  be 
down  there  damaging  the  enemy." 

"But  you  must  allow  things  to  take  their 


course." 


"  Why  can't  you  give  me  permission  to  go 
ahead  on  my  own  hook  ?" 

"  Embark  in  private  warfare  ?  Privateering 
is  out  of  date,  my  young  friend.  But,  ah — 
urn — I  may  say  that — ah — if  you  should  go 
down  there  and  succeed  in  inflicting  serious 
damage  on  the  British  fleet,  I  think — mind,  I 
say  only  that  I  think — the  government  would 
ignore  the  irregularity  of  the  proceeding." 

"  That's  enough  for  me,"  said  Harry,  spring 
ing  to  his  feet.  "  If  my  backers  will  consent, 
I'll  be  there  in  less  than  a  week ;  and,  mark  my 
69 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 
word,  sir,  you'll  hear  of  my  machine  down  there, 


sir." 


And  before  the  astonished  Secretary  could 
say  more,  Harry  Borden  had  bounded  from  the 
room. 

The  British  cruiser  Ajax  HI.  was  steaming 
at  a  speed  of  ten  knots  through  the  blue  waters 
of  the  Caribbean  Sea.  She  had  been  carrying 
certain  despatches  of  grave  importance  from 
Vice-Admiral  Sir  Wallace  Bruce  to  the  Gov 
ernor  of  Jamaica,  and  was  now  returning  in  a 
leisurely  manner,  which  told  of  economy  in  the 
coal  department.  The  Ajax  III.  was  an  armor 
ed  cruiser  of  about  6000  tons.  She  carried 
armor  eight  inches  thick  on  her  sides,  and  had  a 
steel  protective  deck  four  inches  thick.  Her 
main  battery  consisted  of  four  improved  Smith- 
Dodge-Hopkins  8-inch  rapid-firing  breech-load 
ers,  capable  of  discharging  four  of  the  new 
steel-iridium  conical  projectiles  every  minute, 
with  a  point-blank  range  of  two  miles,  and  an 
initial  velocity  of  3000  feet  per  second.  Her 
secondary  battery  consisted  of  six  4-inch  re 
volving  guns,  discharging  seventy  shells  a  min 
ute  when  operated  by  electricity.  The  cruiser 
had  the  new  compound  quintuple  engines,  ca 
pable  of  driving  her  twenty-six  knots  an  hour 
70 


HARRY  BORDEN'S  NAVAL  MONSTER 

under  forced  draught.  On  the  whole,  she  was 
regarded  as  a  fairly  efficient  vessel,  though  some 
of  the  leading  British  critics  declared  that  she 
belonged  to  a  type  that  was  fast  becoming  ob 
solete. 

She  was  moving  gently  and  steadily  through 
the  water.  The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and 
its  gleaming  rays  made  sparkling  light  along 
the  cruiser's  polished  brass  -  work  and  on  the 
brown  chases  of  her  long  slender  guns.  Captain 
Dudley  Fawkes  was  pacing  the  after-bridge  in 
conversation  with  his  executive  officer,  Com 
mander  Bilton-Brooks,  and  Lieutenant  Sir  Ed 
ward  Avon  was  the  officer  of  the  watch  on  the 
main  bridge. 

"  I  don't  believe,"  said  Captain  Fawkes, 
"  that  the  United  States  means  seriously  to  take 
a  hand  in  this  fight." 

"  I  don't  know  about  that,"  responded  Com 
mander  Bilton-Brooks.  "  Congress  has  taken 
action,  and  the  President  has  called  out  troops." 

"  True  enough,"  rejoined  the  Captain,  "  but 
that  does  not  necessarily  mean  anything.  You 
know  the  navy  must  be  the  aggressive  force, 
and  we  have  yet  to  see  an  American  ship  afloat 
in  these  waters." 

"  That  is  quite  true,"  said  the  executive 
officer;  "yet,  for  the  life  of  me,  I  can't  help 
71 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

feeling  that  there  is  mischief  of  some  sort  in 
the  air." 

The  executive  officer's  words  were  more 
nearly  correct  than  even  he  suspected,  for  at 
that  very  instant  the  two  lookouts  in  the  fore- 
top  were  puzzling  their  eyes  and  brains  to  make 
out  a  strange  object  which  had  appeared  on  the 
lee  beam.  While  they  were  watching  it,  it 
dropped  from  the  air,  where  it  had  seemed  to 
be  floating,  and  rested  on  the  bosom  of  the  sea, 
where  it  presently  resolved  itself  into  a  cutter- 
yacht  some  sixty  feet  in  length. 

"  It  were  a  bloomin'  mirage,  Bill,"  said  one 
lookout  to  the  other,  as  he  lifted  his  voice  and 
bawled,  "Sail  ho!" 

"  Where  away  ?"  came  the  quick  demand 
from  the  bridge. 

"  On  our  lee  beam,  sir,"  answered  the  man. 
"  Looks  like  a  cutter-yacht,  sir." 

ISTow  in  the  year  1927  a  cutter -yacht  was 
something  of  a  curiosity,  for  electricity  had  sup 
planted  sail  power  for  small  craft,  and  vessels 
propelled  by  canvas  were  rare  indeed.  The 
cutter-yacht  seen  from  the  decks  of  the  Ajax 
III.  was  on  the  port  tack,  close  hauled  and 
heading  so  as  to  intercept  the  cruiser's  course, 
provided  she  had  speed  enough,  which  was 

wholly  unlikely.     She  was  under  full  canvas, 

72 


HARRY  BORDEN'S  NAVAL  MONSTER 

and,  though  the  breeze  was  very  light,  she  slip 
ped  through  the  smooth  water  at  an  amazing 
speed.  This  fact  dawned  on  the  minds  of  the 
Captain  and  his  executive  officer  at  the  same 
time. 

"  She  must  have  an  auxiliary  electric  screw," 
said  Commander  Bilton-Brooks. 

"  I  fancy  so,"  said  the  Captain.  "  Owned 
by  some  fellow  who  likes  to  think  he's  sailing, 
but  has  no  patience  with  light  breezes.  It's 
rather  curious,  though,  that  he  should  be  cruis 
ing  in  these  waters  at  a  time  like  this,  isn't  it  ?" 

"  It  certainly  is,"  answered  the  executive 
officer.  "  I  don't  see  any  flag — do  you,  sir  ?" 

"  ~No.  I  rather  fancy  I  shall  have  to  over 
haul  this  yacht  and  make  her  skipper  give  an 
account  of  her.  There's  a  mysterious  air  about 
her  that  I  don't  half  like." 

But  it  was  a  good  deal  easier  to  talk  about 
overhauling  the  cutter  than  it  was  to  do  it.  The 
yacht's  sails,  which  were  made  of  some  extreme 
ly  light  material,  like  Chinese  silk  in  appear 
ance,  were  drawing  powerfully,  and  her  electric 
motor — if  it  really  was  electric — was  doing  as 
tounding  work.  The  yacht  flashed  through  the 
water  like  some  great  fish,  and  so  fine  were  her 
lines  that  she  left  hardly  a  bubble  in  her  wake. 
The  Captain  of  the  Ajax  III.  gave  orders  to  in- 
73 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

crease  the  speed  of  the  cruiser,  and  presently 
the  quick  throbbing  of  her  engines  and  the 
vibrations  of  her  hull  told  that  she  was  tearing 
across  the  long  swells  at  a  25-knot  speed.  But 
still  the  cutter-yacht  flew  along,  and  it  was  evi 
dent  that  she  would  pass  across  the  cruiser's  bow 
if  both  held  their  courses. 

"  We  must  stop  her,"  said  Captain  Dudley 
Fawkes,  and  he  gave  orders  to  sound  the  call  to 
quarters.  The  bugle  rang  out,  and  the  hearty 
British  tars  jumped  to  their  stations. 

"  Cast  loose  and  provide !"  ordered  Com 
mander  Bilton-Brooks. 

The  ammunition  hoists  slipped  noiselessly 
upward  bearing  the  steel-iridium  shells  for  the 
8-inch  guns,  and  the  electric  chains  hauled  up 
the  70-pounders  for  the  secondary  battery.  In 
forty-five  seconds  the  ship  was  ready  to  fight, 
and  the  order  was  given  to  train  all  forward 
guns  on  the  cutter  and  stand  by  for  orders. 
Then  the  Captain  and  his  executive  officer  turn 
ed  their  glasses  once  more  on  the  cutter. 

"  What  on  earth  is  she  up  to  now  ?"  exclaim 
ed  the  Captain. 

"  Taking  in  sail — and  spars,  too !"  cried  Com 
mander  Bilton-Brooks. 

It  was  true.    Not  only  had  the  strange  cutter 

let  all  her  thin  sails  run  down,  but  she  seemed 
74 


HARRY  BORDEN'S  NAVAL  MONSTER 

to  have  folded  up  her  mast,  boom,  gaff,  and 
bowsprit  in  some  strange  way  and  stowed  them 
out  of  sight. 

"Has  she  shown  any  flag  yet?"  asked  the 
Captain. 

"  None  that  I  have  seen,"  answered  the  ex 
ecutive  officer. 

"  Then  I'll  wager  a  month's  pay  that  she's 
some  Yankee  invention,"  declared  Captain 
Dudley  Fawkes. 

"  What  in  the  world  are  they  doing  now  ?" 
said  the  executive  officer. 

A  strange  misshapen  mass  was  rising  above 
the  bulwarks  of  the  cutter  with  surprising 
swiftness. 

"  It's  a  balloon !"  exclaimed  the  Captain. 

"  Hadn't  we  better  open  fire  on  her  ?"  asked 
the  executive  officer. 

"Not  yet.  I  think  we'd  better  get  close 
enough  to  hail  her  first,"  answered  the  Cap 
tain.  "  She  may  not  be  anything  more  than 
a  pleasure-craft,  you  know." 

The  balloon  was  inflated  by  this  time,  and 
was  tugging  at  the  heavy  steel  hawsers  by  which 
it  was  attached  to  the  cutter's  hull.  A  cry  of 
surprise  broke  from  the  crew  of  the  British 
cruiser. 

"  Look !  look !    She's  going  up !" 
75 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

The  great  balloon,  inflated  with  the  newly 
discovered  gas,  mercurite,  the  lightest  and  most 
powerful  of  all  known  gases,  was  lifting  the 
cutter  bodily  into  the  air.  Her  curiously  shaped 
hull,  modelled  after  a  shark's  body,  and  equip 
ped  with  a  fin-keel  for  sailing  on  the  wind, 
was  now  fully  revealed.  At  the  same  instant 
a  United  States  ensign  was  waved  over  her 
stern  by  a  young  man. 

"  Mr.  Cortis,"  called  the  Captain,  who  had 
not  thought  it  necessary  yet  to  enter  the  conning- 
tower,  "  give  him  a  taste  of  your  metal." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  answered  the  Lieutenant  in 
command  of  the  forward  8-inch  guns. 

The  next  instant  there  was  a  terrific  con 
cussion,  and  one  of  the  big  shells  went  scream 
ing  toward  the  cutter;  but  she  was  rising  so 
fast  that  the  projectile  passed  under  her  and 
plunged  foaming  into  the  sea  a  mile  away. 

"  More  elevation,  sir,"  cried  the  executive 
officer. 

"  Impossible !"  answered  Lieutenant  Cortis ; 
"we're  too  close  to  her,  and  the  angle  is  too 
high." 

"  Look  at  her  now !"  exclaimed  the  Captain. 
"  She's  rushing  towards  us !" 

"  Sailing  against  the  wind  with  a  balloon !" 

cried  Commander  Bilton-Brooks. 
76 


HARRY  BORDEN'S  NAVAL  MONSTER 

The  shark-bodied  cutter,  with  her  fin-keel 
below  and  her  balloon  above,  was  indeed  now 
moving  toward  a  position  above  the  cruiser. 

"  Call  away  the  riflemen!"  cried  the  Captain. 

The  red  -  coated  marines  assembled  on  the 
superstructures,  and  began  a  rapid  fire  at  the 
balloon,  hoping  to  burst  it.  But  their  bullets 
simply  glanced  off  the  fine  steel-netting  with 
which  it  was  protected.  Now  the  head  of  the 
young  man  once  again  appeared  above  the  bul 
warks  of  the  strange  machine,  and  he  took  a 
rapid  glance  at  the  British  ship.  The  next 
instant  a  small  port  in  the  cutter's  side  opened, 
and  from  it  dropped  a  glass  globe  about  half  the 
size  of  a  football.  The  globe  fell  upon  the 
forward  deck  of  the  cruiser.  There  was  an  ap 
palling  explosion,  and  the  whole  forecastle  of 
the  Ajax  III.  became  a  hopeless  wreck.  An 
other  globe  was  hurled  with  such  fatal  accuracy 
that  it  fell  down  one  of  the  smoke-stacks  of  the 
now  helpless  vessel.  There  was  a  roar  as  of 
thunder  away  down  in  her  engine-room,  and 
pale-faced  men  poured  on  deck. 

"  We're  sinking !  The  ship's  bottom  is  blown 
out!"  they  cried.  There  was  a  wild  rush  to 
lower  away  the  boats.  A  few  minutes  later 
the  Ajax  III.  sank  out  of  sight  under  the  blue 
waters  of  the  Caribbean  Sea,  and  Harry  Bor- 
77 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

den,  with  his  balloon  stowed  and  his  canvas 
spread  again,  was  sailing  away  with  a  few  sur 
vivors  of  the  ill-fated  cruiser  in  his  strange  in 
vention  in  search  of  more  British  cruisers.  A 
month  later  the  war  was  over. 


VI 


THE    CRUISE    OF   A   COMMERCE 
DESTROYER 

How  the  "Calabria"  was  Captured 

THE  officer  of  the  deck  is  pacing  his  last 
hour  of  a  very  dull  forenoon  watch  upon 
the  bridge  of  an  American  cruiser.  The  trop 
ical  sun  beats  down  with  unflinching  savageness 
upon  his  head;  his  eyes  are  restlessly  scanning 
the  horizon  at  every  turn,  but  nothing  has  dis 
turbed  the  monotony  of  its  outline,  as  his  sullen 
pacing  bears  witness.  The  sentries  and  men  on 
lookout  are  at  their  stations,  and  are  listlessly 
walking  to  and  fro  on  the  small  patch  of  deck 
called  their  posts.  Small  knots  of  men  are  gath 
ered  together  here  and  there  on  the  spar-deck, 
under  the  shade  of  a  boat  or  a  gun-shield,  spin 
ning  yarns  or  playing  at  sailor  games.  Some  of 
the  younger  officers  can  be  seen  aft  on  the  quar 
ter-deck  gazing  fixedly  over  the  wide  expanse  of 
ocean,  as  if  they  expected  an  enemy  to  rise  up 

79 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

before  them  from  the  sea.  Some  of  the  more 
impulsive  ones  occasionally  lift  their  voices  in 
expostulation  at  the  dull  life  they  are  leading, 
while  others  are  seeing  active  service  on  fighting- 
ships.  The  great  hull  of  the  cruiser  is  slowly 
forging  ahead  in  the  quiet  sea;  her  huge  and 
powerful  engines  are  barely  turning  over. 

Like  a  picture  in  a  kinetoscope,  all  this  has 
changed.  Every  man  on  board  has  awakened 
from  his  lethargy.  All  hands  are  alert  and  gaz 
ing  at  the  horizon  to  the  eastward.  What  is  the 
cause  of  this  sudden  awakening?  Two  words 
from  the  lookout  in  the  foretop :  "  Sail  ho !" 
Yes,  broad  on  the  port  bow  can  be  seen  a  low 
line  of  black  smoke  that  to  any  but  a  sail 
or's  eye  would  appear  to  be  a  cloud  on  the  dis 
tant  horizon.  Scarcely  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
and  with  all  speed  the  cruiser  is  cutting  the 
sea  in  the  direction  of  the  fast  -  approaching 
smoke. 

Eager  young  officers  have  ascended  into  the 
tops  to  be  the  first  to  make  out  the  character  of 
the  stranger.  In  the  foretop  are  two  midship 
men,  still  in  their  teens,  classmates  at  the  Naval 
Academy,  and  stanch  friends.  Scarcely  a 
thought  has  one  the  other  does  not  share.  With 
that  reckless  ambition  that  is  one  of  the  at 
tributes  of  youth  they  are  both  longing  for 
80 


A    COMMERCE    DESTROYER 

excitement.  Their  dreams  of  battle  and  glory 
have  toppled  like  a  castle  of  cards. 

As  yet  the  American  ship  has  seen  no  fight 
ing  ;  she  has  been  doing  the  work  cut  out  for  her 
without  bloodshed.  Merchantman  after  mer 
chantman  has  been  overhauled  and  captured  or 
ransomed  in  the  last  six  months,  and  the 
cruiser's  name  has  become  the  terror  of  the 
enemy's  merchant  marine. 

Once  only,  while  coming  out  of  a  neutral 
port,  she  had  to  run  the  gauntlet  of  two  of 
the  enemy's  cruisers;  but  with  her  superior 
speed  two  hours  sufficed  to  put  the  enemy  hull 
down  astern,  with  but  slight  damage  to  the  com 
merce-destroyer.  Her  orders  were,  on  the  out 
break  of  the  war,  "  to  capture  or  destroy  the 
enemy's  commerce  wherever  met;  refuse  bat 
tle,"  and  this  order  had  been  faithfully  carried 
out.  All  hands  had  grown  rich  in  prize-money ; 
fresh  provisions  were  obtained  in  abundance. 

Coal  was  the  problem.  It  had  been  attempted 
to  coal  at  sea  from  captured  vessels,  but  this 
mode  could  not  be  relied  upon  to  replenish  the 
bunkers  of  a  ship  with  such  a  tremendous  ex 
penditure.  So  a  certain  amount  of  risk  had 
to  be  run  in  coaling  in  neutral  ports. 

This  vessel  and  her  two  sister  ships  were  the 
prizes  coveted  by  all  the  enemy's  cruisers. 
81 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

When  the  United  States  was  building  them 
other  nations  laughed  at  the  idea,  and  put  their 
dock-yards  at  work  building  ships  of  greater 
armament  but  less  speed.  But  now  they  saw 
the  advantage  of  these  beautiful  toys,  as  the 
foreign  press  were  wont  to  call  them,  that  could 
give  or  refuse  battle  at  pleasure. 

Ship  after  ship  of  the  enemy's  navy  was  in 
search  of  these  "  freebooters,"  but  very  few 
had  even  had  the  honor  of  coming  within  signal 
distance.  One  of  these  was  the  Whistle,  a 
cruiser  of  a  little  heavier  armament,  but  several 
knots  less  speed.  The  American  was  in  the 
port  of  St.  Thomas,  coaling,  when  this  warlike 
hull  hove  in  sight,  ^rery  little  time  was  lost  in 
putting  to  sea,  but  not  before  two  or  three  shots 
had  been  exchanged  and  some  very  taunting 
signals  had  been  displayed  by  the  disappointed 
ship. 

All  the  officers  and  men  would  gladly  have 
accepted  battle,  with  but  small  fear  of  the  re 
sult,  but  each  and  every  one  knew  what  awful 
odds  would  be  on  the  Whistle's  side.  America 
had  but  a  few  ships ;  if  these  were  pitted  against 
the  navy  of  the  enemy,  they  would  be  over 
whelmed,  annihilated.  No;  the  quickest  way 
to  humble  the  foe  is  through  her  commerce.  So 
the  bitter  pill  had  to  be  swallowed  in  silence. 

82 


A    COMMERCE    DESTROYER 

But  the  mere  thought  of  the  occurrence  brought 
a  hot  flush  to  the  cheek  of  every  man  aboard. 

The  stranger  has  drawn  near,  and  is  soon 
made  out  to  be  a  merchantman,  an  ocean  liner, 
one  of  the  greyhounds  that  had  plied  between 
New  York  and  Harborport  before  the  outbreak 
of  hostilities.  Large  volumes  of  black  smoke 
from  her  immense  smoke-pipes  show  she  has 
scented  danger  and  is  making  all  speed  to  es 
cape. 

The  young  officers  in  the  foretop  are  thrilled 
with  excitement  as  their  glass  shows  them  the 
character  of  the  other  ship.  The  younger  is  a 
boy  of  eighteen,  his  light  hair  and  blue  eyes 
betokening  his  Saxon  ancestry.  He  is  clad 
in  a  neat-fitting  blue  uniform,  and  his  cap  set 
jauntily  on  the  back  of  his  head  revealed  a  mass 
of  light  curly  locks.  With  his  eyes  fairly 
sparkling,  he  bears  a  striking  contrast  to  his 
companion.  Dark  and  sullen,  with  lowering 
eyes  and  heavy  forehead,  the  other  shows  not 
by  a  single  sign  that  he  realizes  that  in  a  short 
time  the  first  and  long-cherished  battle  of  his 
life  will  be  enacted. 

The  younger  lad  has  dreamed  of  battles  both 
in  his  sleep  and  in  his  waking  moments,  in  which 
he  has  cut  his  way  with  his  sword  to  honor  and 

distinction.     He  has  oftentimes  pictured  his 
7  83 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

friends,  his  mother,  and  his  sweetheart  reading 
of  his  heroic  deeds  in  the  daily  papers  of  his 
home,  and  now  it  seems  to  his  youthful  mind 
his  dreams  are  to  be  fulfilled. 

As  his  glass  scans  the  stranger,  he  realizes 
that  in  the  eyes  of  naval  experts  the  new  comer 
is  nearly  equal  to  the  American  in  fighting 
qualities.  He  knows  that  these  fast  ships  have 
been  subsidized  by  the  hostile  government,  and 
are  heavily  armed  and  protected.  His  dreams 
fairly  dance  before  his  eyes.  But  another  pict 
ure  flashes  across  his  mental  vision.  He  is  on 
the  battery-deck ;  the  decks  are  wet  and  slippery 
with  blood;  the  terribly  mangled  dead  and 
wounded  are  lying  all  about  him ;  he  sees  brave 
men  struck  down  around.  A  cold  shiver  runs 
through  his  well-knit  frame  as  he  shakes  from 
him  the  ghastly  nightmare. 

The  other  lad  is  not  a  dreamer.  Morose,  al 
most  cynical,  he  never  gives  himself  up  to  such 
reveries.  To  him  everything  appears  in  a  less 
gilded  light.  He  knows  that  if  the  stranger  has 
not  superior  speed  his  services  and  his  com 
panion's  will  soon  be  needed  on  the  deck  below. 

The  two  lads  scramble  down  through  the  hol 
low  mast  as  the  drummers  are  beating  the  long 
roll  to  quarters.  All  during  the  hot,  sultry  day 
the  chase  continues,  ai*d  when  night  settles  down 
84 


A    COMMERCE    DESTROYER 

on  the  watery  waste  the  cruiser  is  still  out  of 
gun-shot  astern.  The  night  is  bright,  and 
when  morning  dawns  the  blood-hound  is  still 
upon  the  trail.  The  crew  of  the  8-inch  breech- 
loading  rifle  on  the  forecastle  is  called  to  quar 
ters,  and  a  shell  is  sent  speeding  over  the  water 
in  the  direction  of  the  fleeing  ship.  Slowly  the 
distance  diminishes.  Suddenly  a  white  cloud 
of  smoke  bursts  from  the  liner,  and  a  heavy 
shell  strikes  close  aboard  the  American  ship. 

All  hands  are  soon  at  their  stations,  and  in 
a  short  time  all  is  in  readiness  for  battle.  The 
Stars  and  Stripes  at  her  trucks  flaunt  a  chal 
lenge  to  the  enemy's  ensign  at  the  Calabria's 
gaff. 

The  two  ships  are  now  within  battle-range, 
and  the  thunder  of  their  heavy  ordnance  breaks 
the  stillness  of  the  ocean. 

Shells  go  speeding  through  the  unarmored 
sides  of  the  ships,  their  explosions  making  ter 
rific  havoc  among  their  unprotected  crews.  The 
picture  before  the  midshipman's  eyes  is  now 
a  reality.  Tirelessly  the  two  lads  work;  their 
guns  are  next  to  each  other.  As  they  give  their 
commands  in  sharp,  decisive  voices  the  contrast 
seems  less  striking.  A  shell  comes  in  the  gun- 
port  and  strikes  down  the  captain  of  the  younger 
lad's  gun;  the  lock-string  falls  from  his  life- 

85 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

less  hand.      Gently  laying  the  dead  man  aside, 
he  takes  the  lanyard. 

As  he  stood  at  his  gun  before  the  heat  of 
action,  he  was  seized  with  an  awful  trembling, 
and  he  feared  lest  he  might  show  by  his  actions 
the  white  feather  to  his  men.  Then  came  the 
bursting  of  shells  and  the  explosion  of  dis 
charges,  and  then  the  shell  striking  down  his 
gun  captain,  spluttering  his  life-blood  all  about 
him.  At  once  his  fears  left  him,  his  eyes  bright 
ened,  and  a  terrible  anger  awoke  in  him,  the 
like  of  which  he  had  never  known.  He  fired 
his  gun  at  the  enemy  with  a  fierce  exultancy, 
wondering  in  a  cruel  way  how  many  lives  the 
shell  had  cut  down.  It  seems  ages  since  the 
battle  started.  With  his  eyes  always  on  the 
enemy,  he  is  spared  from  seeing  his  friend, 
struck  by  a  flying  splinter,  being  carried  below 
to  the  surgeons.  He  sees  the  Calabria,  her  sides 
ablaze  with  fire,  sweep  majestically  across  his 
small  horizon  and  then  disappear.  He  is  al 
ways  aware  of  her  awful  presence  from  the 
never-ceasing  bursting  of  her  shells  around  him. 
Then  again  she  appears,  and  is  once  more  in  his 
angle  of  fire.  During  this  small  space  of  time 
his  gun  has  done  all  that  could  be  expected; 
he  has  watched  shell  after  shell  from  it  explode 

aboard  the  enemy ;  he  can  see  large  rents  in  her 
86 


I 

A    COMMERCE    DESTROYER 

black  hull,  and  he  notices  her  fire  is  becoming 
more  desultory;  the  fight  will  soon  be  over. 
As  she  disappears  again,  he  musters  up  courage 
to  look  about  him.  There  is  but  little  life  on 
the  battery-deck  that  only  a  half-hour  before 
was  the  scene  of  so  much  activity.  The  gun 
next  his  is  not  in  action ;  a  shell  has  completely 
shattered  the  breech-plug ;  nearly  its  entire  crew 
are  lying  about  on  the  deck,  their  dark  life-blood 
staining  the  white  planking.  His  companion's 
cap  is  lying  near  a  dark  mass  on  the  deck.  Is 
it  his  blood  ?  His  senses  are  so  paralyzed  that 
he  feels  his  mind  must  give  way.  The  enemy 
emerges  into  view;  his  hand  is  upon  the  lock- 
string;  the  elevator  and  trainer  are  attentively 
watching  for  their  orders.  They  do  not  come. 
His  thoughts  are  far  away  in  the  midst  of  a 
modest  New  England  home.  He  sees  a  beauti 
ful  motherly  woman,  her  face  pale  and  anxious, 
and  by  her  side  is  a  young  girl  in  the  first  blush 
of  womanhood. 

He  is  suddenly  conscious  of  a  young  seaman 
standing  before  him,  giving  him  a  message. 
In  a  dazed  way  he  relinquishes  his  lock-string 
to  one  of  his  gunners  and  is  making  his  way 
over  the  reeking  deck  toward  the  bridge.  He 
hears  a  voice,  as  if  in  a  dream,  giving  him  or 
ders  to  be  ready  to  board  the  prize.  Then  the 

87 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

enemy  has  surrendered?  His  gaze  seeks  the 
other  ship.  But  a  short  distance  away  he  sees 
her  shattered  hull  rolling  in  the  smooth  sea. 
A  huge  white  flag  flutters  from  her  signal-hal 
yards.  The  boats  are  ready  and  alongside.  The 
men  are  embarking.  He  takes  his  place,  and 
they  shove  off,  and  are  soon  scaling  the  side  of 
the  captured  vessel.  Her  decks  are  almost  de 
serted,  scarcely  a  living  man  is  about,  but  every 
where  death  and  destruction  reign.  He  hears  a 
well-known  voice  close  to  him.  Has  the  last 
hour  been  an  awful  nightmare,  or  has  his  mind 
been  shaken  at  last?  He  cannot  grasp  the 
situation.  There  is  his  friend,  looking  paler 
than  ever,  his  right  arm  in  splints  and  his  head 
tied  up  in  a  huge  bandage.  His  joy  knows 
no  bounds.  With  a  fervent  "  Thank  Heaven !" 
they  embrace.  There  is  no  time  now  for  ex 
planations;  it  is  enough  to  know  that  his  com 
panion  is  still  alive.  With  orders  from  his 
Lieutenant,  he  is  leading,  pistol  in  hand,  a  gang 
of  tars  down  into  the  Calabria's  bowels.  The 
surprised  firemen  and  stokers  are  quickly  mana 
cled,  and  ready  Americans  have  taken  their 
places.  An  engineer  officer  is  giving  rapid  or 
ders  to  his  men;  the  huge  engines  start  ahead, 
slowly  at  first,  then  the  revolutions  increase  till 
the  shafts  are  revolving  at  a  terrific  speed. 

88 


A    COMMERCE    DESTROYER 

When  he  again  reaches  the  deck  everything  is 
again  calm  and  peaceful.  On  the  port  quarter, 
but  a  short  distance  away,  he  sees  his  own  ship. 
Both  ships  are  going  at  full  speed;  and  astern, 
just  out  of  gun-shot,  he  sees  the  hulls  of  three 
more  ships.  He  understands  it  all  now.  The 
Calabria  had  nearly  led  them  into  a  trap. 

A  red  wig-wag  flag  is  waving  on  board  the 
white  cruiser :  "  Must  reduce  speed  in  order  to 
reach  port."  Coal  is  running  short.  The  hor 
ribly  significant  signal  can  hardly  be  realized. 
Will  she  fall  a  prey  to  the  enemy's  cruisers  af 
ter  such  a  glorious  victory?  Foot  by  foot  the 
hostile  ships  draw  nearer  to  the  commerce-de 
stroyer  and  her  prize.  In  case  they  are  over 
taken,  the  Calabria  is  to  go  on  and  reach  Hamp 
ton  Roads  in  safety.  It  is  the  only  thing  to 
do.  Why  sacrifice  another  ship  unnecessarily? 
For  two  days  and  nights  the  pursuit  continues. 
Cape  Henry  light-house  is  sighted  on  the  port 
bow.  Just  within  gun-shot  astern  are  the  three 
heavily  armored  cruisers,  using  their  bow- 
chasers  with  great  rapidity  and  precision  on  the 
fleeing  ships.  Large  volumes  of  brown  smoke 
pour  from  the  American  cruiser's  smoke-pipes. 
She  is  making  her  last  spurt  for  life.  Bulk 
heads,  furniture,  and  all  combustible  material 
have  been  fed  to  the  mighty  furnaces. 
89 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

Slowly  they  draw  away  from  their  pursuers. 
The  light-house  is  close  on  the  port  beam.  The 
heavy  guns  there  are  directed  against  three  dark 
hulls  to  the  eastward.  They  are  the  baffled 
enemy. 


II 

STRANGE    STORIES    OF    THE    SEA 


VII 

PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 
Fighting  for  the  Flag 

"\  A/HAT  d'ye  see,  Mr.  Wright?" 

V  V    "  A  French  xebec,  sir — two  of  'em." 

"Comin'  this  way?" 

"  No,  sir ;  due  south  by  the  compass,  sir. 
They're  standin'  away  under  full  sail — looks 
as  if  they  saw  somethin'." 

"  Maybe  they  see  us." 

Captain  John  Granthan  smiled  broadly  at 
his  grim  humor. 

"  Maybe,  sir,"  answered  Wright,  the  boat 
swain,  without  relaxing  his  features. 

"  Look  ahead  of  ?em  and  see  if  you  can't  see 
somethin'.  French  xebecs  ain't  chasin'  the  seas 
for  nuthin'." 

The  boatswain  directed  his  sea-glasses  due 
south  by  the  compass,  and  gazed  long  and  silent 
ly  across  the  sunlit  ocean.  Granthan,  captain 

of  the  privateer  London,  ex-convict  and  pirate, 
03 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

seated  himself  on  a  coil  of  rope  and  glanced 
critically  up  at  the  bellying  sails. 

"  They  don't  draw  well  to-day,"  he  muttered 
to  himself. 

He  was  proud  of  the  London,  and  anything 
wrong  with  her  affected  him  as  a  mother  with 
a  sick  child.  She  had  been  a  London  mail- 
packet,  and  she  was  as  fleet  as  any  deer-hound 
of  the  ocean. 

"  Them  Frenchmen-of-the-line  can't  shoot  a 
cannon-ball  as  fast  as  we  can  sail,"  he  was  wont 
to  remark  contemptuously  when  chased  by  the 
enemy. 

"  Ah,  that's  it !"  suddenly  exclaimed  Wright, 
the  boatswain. 

"Well,  what's  it?"  grumbled  Granthan,  as 
the  man  relapsed  into  stolid  silence  again. 

"  It's  a  mail-packet,  sir ;  one  of  'em  small 
Falmouth  packets,  I  judge,  sir.  They're 
a-chasin'  of  her." 

"  Then  we'll  chase  'em.  Crowd  on  full  sail, 
Mr.  Wright,  an'  keep  her  course  straight.  We 
can  get  in  gun-shot  of  'em  in  five  hours,  or  the 
London  ain't  what  she's  cracked  up  to  be." 

"Ay,  ay,  sir!    We'll  do  it." 

When  the  boatswain  bawled  out  the  orders, 
Captain  Granthan  took  the  sea -glasses  and 
studied  the  distant  horizon.  The  two  French 
94 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

xebecs,  with  their  three  masts,  stood  up  on  the 
blue  sea  like  a  pair  of  white-winged  gulls.  Far 
down  below  the  horizon  the  topmast  of  another 
ship  could  be  seen.  K^one  but  sharp  sea  eyes 
could  detect  her  colors. 

"  That's  a  mail-packet,"  grunted  Granthan  to 
himself.  "  I'd  know  one  a  thousand  miles  away. 
She's  from  Falmouth,  too;  only  twenty-eight 
men  and  six  guns.  She's  no  match  for  'em 
two  Frenchmen.  A  dastardly  trick  of  gov'ment 
to  reduce  their  armament.  Run  away  an'  not 
fight!  What  Englishman  wants  to  obey  such 
orders  ?  Surrender  an'  sink  the  mails  if  caught ! 
Humph !  What  are  British  seamen  comin'  to  ?" 

"  Did  you  speak,  sir  ?" 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Wright,  I  spoke  to  myself.  I  was 
just  sayin'  that  it  was  a  crime  fur  the  gov'ment 
to  reduce  the  armament  of  them  mail-packets  at 
this  time.  It's  the  ruination  of  British  seamen. 
How  can  you  expect  to  make  brave  seamen  with 
orders  always  to  run  away  or  surrender  to  the 

?M 
^ 

"  It's  a  shame,  sir.  I  quite  agree  with  you, 
sir ;  it's  a  disgrace  to  British  sailors." 

"  Them  two  Frenchmen  carry  sixteen  guns 
apiece,  I'll  swear,  an'  the  mail  -  packet  only 


six." 


"  Maybe,  sir ;  an'  then — " 
95 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

Granthan  turned  around  and  finished  his 
sentence — "  they  might  have  more.  No,  Mr. 
Wright,  there  ain't  many  captains  that  '11  break 
the  law  as  I  did.  It's  too  risky  to  smuggle 
extra  guns  aboard  a  mail-packet.  The  post- 
office  inspectors  are  too  sharp.  They  don't  let 
us  poor  fellows  make  prize-money  any  more." 

"  E"ot  unless  you  take  out  papers  as  a  priva 
teer,  sir,  an'  take  prizes  lawfully." 

Captain  Granthan's  face  clouded.  A  troubled 
expression  spread  over  it  and  made  him  look 
ugly  and  surly. 

"  And  didn't  they  refuse  to  give  me  my  pa 
pers?"  he  asked,  gruffly. 

"  Ay,  they  did,  sir,  an'  without  good  cause." 

"  Just  because  I  smuggled  a  few  extra  guns 
on  the  packet,  an'  ran  down  a  French  privateer 
off  Calais,"  he  continued,  in  a  louder  voice. 
"  They  said  I'd  have  to  lay  off  for  a  year — 
think  of  it,  a  whole  year — while  these  French 
privateers  were  flooding  the  sea !  Ain't  I  a  sea- 
captain,  Mr.  Wright,  bred  to  it  from  a  young 
ster  up,  an'  ain't  I  human?  Could  I  live  on 
the  land  for  a  whole  year  an'  hear  the  guns 
a-boomin'  away  at  sea?  They  just  took  the 
salt  out  o'  my  life,  an' — well,  I  stood  it  three 
months,  an'  then  human  nature  could  stand 
no  more.  I  had  to  go  to  sea,  an'  this  packet  was 

96 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

handy  in  the  harbor.  I  just  sailed  away  with 
her,  an'  then  picked  up  you  an'  the  rest  of  the 
crew." 

"  Is  that  how  you  came  to  this  life,  sir  ?" 

"Yes,  Mr.  Wright,  that's  the  story.  An' 
then  they  put  a  price  on  my  head.  The  post- 
office  fellows  would  just  like  to  run  me  down. 
But  I  leave  it  to  you,  Mr.  Wright,  if  I  haven't 
always  honored  the  old  flag.  'Ain't  I  always 
fought  with  it  at  the  mast-head,  an'  did  I  ever 
touch  a  ship  flyin'  it?  They  can't  say  that 
I've  disgraced  it.  If  they  choose  to  call  me 
a  pirate,  they  can;  but  I'll  kill  the  man  that 
says  I'm  a  traitor  to  that  flag." 

The  eyes  of  Granthan  flashed  fire,  as  he  point 
ed  dramatically  to  the  union- jack  fluttering 
over  their  heads  in  the  breeze. 

"  I  will,  too,  sir,"  solemnly  replied  the  boat 
swain.  And  the  two  clasped  hands  in  mutual 
sympathy. 

Across  the  water  the  actors  in  the  forth 
coming  conflict  were  looming  up  more  clearly. 
The  two  French  xebecs  were  gaining  on  the 
English  mail-packet,  but  not  faster  than  the 
London  was  gaining  upon  the  former. 

"  They  don't  see  us,"  Captain  Granthan  said, 
after  a  long  pause ;  "  they're  so  intent  upon 
their  prize." 

97 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  They'll  hear  us,  then,  later." 

"  Yes — and  feel  us,  too.  I'll  save  another 
packet  for  the  old  service,  or  go  down  fighting 
for  it." 

A  sudden  hoom  of  a  gun  rolled  in  muffled 
tones  across  the  sea. 

"  Ah !  they're  beginning  the  fun." 

A  puff  of  smoke  from  the  leading  xebec's 
fore-deck  indicated  the  cause  of  the  sound.  It 
was  immediately  followed  by  another.  Then 
silence  reined  over  the  placid  sea. 

"  They  can't  reach  the  packet  yet,"  muttered 
Granthan,  watching  the  ships  eagerly  through 
his  sea-glasses.  "  But  they'll  overhaul  her  in 
half  an  hour." 

Thirty  minutes  ticked  away  by  the  Captain's 
watch  before  there  was  any  sign  of  a  renewal 
of  hostilities.  Then  the  boom  of  guns  fired 
in  rapid  succession  told  the  threatening  fate  of 
the  fleeing  mail-packet. 

"  They  ain't  very  good  marksmen,"  Granthan 
reflected.  "  Them  French  navy  fellows  never 
were;  it's  only  the  privateers  that  can  shoot 
straight.  You  remember  the  time  we  fought 
one  off  Dover,  Mr.  Wright?  They  handled 
their  guns  almost  as  well  as  we  did.  It  was 
only  a  lucky  shot  of  ours  that  disabled  her.  Then 

that  little  English  brig  just  scooted  an'  didn't 
98 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

stop  to  thank  us.  I  s'pose  the  Captain  thought 
I  was  goin'  to  overhaul  him  next ;  he  knew  who 
I  was." 

"  We'd  better  get  ready  for  action,  sir ;  I 
think  we  could  reach  'em  with  our  fore-gun." 

"  Not  this  time,  Mr.  Wright.  I'm  goin'  to 
close  in  on  'em,  an'  if  things  get  too  hot  we'll 
board  'em.  They're  two  to  one,  remember,  for 
that  packet  won't  stop  to  fight  if  she  can  slip 
away.  Run  away,  or  surrender  and  sink  the 
mails ! — that's  their  orders,  Mr.  Wright." 

Granthan's  lips  curled  a  little  as  he  uttered 
these  words.  The  rattle  of  small  and  large 
guns  was  pretty  general  now ;  but  still  the  mail- 
packet  stood  on  its  course  uninjured. 

"  They've  slashed  her  sails  a  little,"  Gran- 
than  reported,  "  but  they  haven't  done  any  great 
damage  yet.  She's  answerin'  back  now." 

Puffs  of  smoke  from  the  little  packet  clouded 
her  stern  and  sides  until  half  her  hull  was  hid 
den  from  view. 

"  Mr.  Wright,  I'd  like  to  shake  hands  with 
that  Captain,"  Granthan  said,  with  enthusiasm. 
"  He  knows  how  to  fight,  an'  he  won't  surrender 
until  he's  sinkin'.  There  goes  the  topmast  of 
the  first  xebec.  What  a  shot!  Ah,  that  was 
bad!" 

"What  is  it,  sir?" 

8  99 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  The  packet's  crippled,  an' —  Say,  Mr. 
Wright,  can't  we  sail  faster  ?" 

Granthan  lowered  his  glasses  and  glanced 
about  at  his  own  trim  ship.  Every  member  of 
the  crew  was  in  his  place,  armed  to  the  teeth 
and  ready  for  an  engagement. 

"  We're  doing  fifteen  knots  an  hour,  sir." 

"  Then  make  it  sixteen,  an'  I'll  give  you  ex 
tra  prize-money." 

"  Ay,  sir,  I  will  if  it's  possible." 

Granthan  walked  toward  the  heavy  gun  train 
ed  over  the  privateer's  bow.  The  old  gunner 
doffed  his  hat  to  him. 

"  Ready,  sir,  when  the  order  is  given." 

"  Aim  low,  Jones,  an'  see  that  you  cripple 
her  below  the  water-line.  We'll  have  to  sink 
one  and  capture  the  other." 

"  Ay,  sir ;  I'll  sink  her  in  five  rounds,"  re 
sponded  the  old  gunner  as  he  readjusted  the 
aim  of  the  gun. 

There  was  suppressed  excitement  on  board 
the  privateer,  but  Granthan  seemed  uncon 
cerned. 

"  Save  the  men's  strength  for  boardin',"  he 
said,  as  he  passed  the  first  officer  of  the  deck, 
"  an'  don't  let  'em  expose  themselves  too  much. 
It's  better  to  keep  shy  of  the  balls  until  we're 

at  close  quarters.     Ah!  they've  discovered  us." 
100 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER 

A  solid  shot  whizzed  across  the  sea  and 
splashed  in  the  water  a  hundred  yards  from  the 
London. 

"  Now,  Jones,  sink  her !"  Granthan  shouted 
to  the  forward  gunner.  "  Extra  prize  money 
for  every  gunner  that  hits  the  mark  square." 

There  was  an  instant  change  in  the  Captain. 
The  firing  of  the  first  shot  dispelled  all  his 
apathy.  He  was  alert,  active,  dangerous.  In 
person  he  gave  the  orders  to  the  gunners.  The 
forward  gun  of  the  privateer  belched  forth  its 
contents. 

"  Lower,  lower,  Jones !"  Granthan  shouted, 
savagely.  "  What  are  you  practising  for  ?  Hit 
her,  man,  an'  not  the  sea!  A  boy  could  do 
better!" 

Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  the  first  shot 
had  struck  the  upper  stern-deck  of  the  nearest 
xebec,  the  old  gunner  grumbled  at  his  luck  and 
lowered  his  piece. 

Another  solid  shot  came  singing  across  the 
open  space  between  the  combatants,  and  cut 
away  some  of  the  rigging  of  the  privateer. 
Granthan  shouted: 

"  Mr.  Wright,  up  there  with  your  men ; 
they'll  cripple  us  before  we  can  reach  ?em!" 

A  dozen  men  sprang  up  the  ratlines,  and  in 
the  very  face  of  the  heavy  fire  repaired  the 
101 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

torn  rigging.  But  another  shot  struck  the  rail 
ing  of  the  London,  and  sent  huge  splinters 
flying  in  every  direction.  One  man  fell,  stunned 
by  a  blow  on  the  head. 

"  Bring  her  about,  Mr.  Wright,  an'  give  ?em 
a  broadside,"  the  Captain  ordered. 

They  were  at  close  quarters  now,  and  the  en 
gagement  was  pretty  general.  The  London 
poured  a  deadly  broadside  into  the  nearest  xebec 
which  made  her  reel  and  tremble;  but  a  mo 
ment  later  the  response  came.  There  was  a  rat 
tling  of  shots  and  a  smashing  of  wood-work 
that  drowned  the  moans  and  cries  of  the  wound 
ed.  Orders  were  flying  thick  and  fast,  and  Gran- 
than  seemed  to  be  everywhere.  The  tigerish 
old  spirit  of  the  sea-captain  was  fully  aroused. 
The  odds  were  against  him,  and  he  was  in  his 
element. 

The  second  xebec  had  swung  around  to  give 
assistance  to  her  hard-pressed  companion.  Lit 
tle  damage  was  being  done  to  the  deck-work 
of  the  latter;  but  the  broadsides  of  the  priva 
teer  were  pouring  deadly  missiles  into  her  hull 
— so  deadly  that  she  seemed  to  be  sinking. 

The  men  on  the  London,  except  the  gunners, 
did  not  like  this  long-distance  duel.  They  pre 
ferred  a  hand-to-hand  combat.  But  Captain 
Granthan  knew  that  the  odds  in  such  a  conflict 
102 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

were  five  to  one  against  him,  while  with  his 
guns  he  was  rapidly  reducing  this  disparity. 

"  She's  sinking  sir,"  bawled  the  boatswain 
from  the  stern.  "  She  can't  stand  any  more." 

"  Then  stand  off,  an'  look  out  for  'em," 
Granthan  answered  back.  "  They're  tryin'  to 
close  in  on  us.  Here  Mr.  Wright,  bring  her 
around." 

But  a  well-directed  shot  from  the  approach 
ing  xebec  smashed  the  mainmast  and  sent  it 
splintering  to  the  deck.  Captain  Granthan  took 
in  the  situation  instantly. 

"  !N"ow,  Jones,  aim  at  her  decks  an'  cripple 
her,"  he  ordered.  "  Don't  let  her  come  nearer. 
We  don't  want  to  be  boarded  yet." 

The  old  gunner  made  no  reply,  but  his  mouth 
piece  gave  effective  answer  a  moment  later.  The 
crash  of  timbers  and  toppling  masts  and  yards 
brought  a  cheer  from  the  throats  of  the  seamen 
on  the  London.  Granthan  shouted,  sternly : 

"  Stop  your  cheerin',  an'  get  ready  to  fight ! 
They're  runnin'  down  upon  us  to  board.  Give 
'em  another  broadside,  Mr.  Wright,  an'  then 
get  ready  to  repel  boarders." 

The  position  of  the  privateer  was  now  critical. 

Unable  to  move  out  of  the  fog  of  her  own 

smoke,  she  was  drifting  between  the  guns  of 

the  two  xebecs.     The  latter  had  silenced  their 

103 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

gun  and  were  preparing  to  grapple  with  the 
daring  little  privateer.  Amid  the  confusion 
Granthan  asked: 

"  Where  is  the  little  packet  ?  Has  she  es 
caped  3" 

~No  one  answered,  for  the  clouds  of  heavy 
smoke  had  settled  down  over  the  sea,  so  that 
nothing  beyond  a  narrow  circle  could  be  dis 
cerned.  The  three  ships  drifted  closer  to 
gether. 

There  was  a  moment  of  intense  silence.  Then 
the  guns  of  the  privateer  raked  the  decks  of  the 
xebecs.  The  response  from  either  side  was 
feeble,  for  most  of  their  guns  had  been  dis 
mantled. 

The  narrow  stream  of  water  between  the  ships 
lessened  to  fifty  feet.  Then  the  gunners  were 
called  away  from  their  pieces.  The  Captain 
had  given  orders,  and  Wright  had  repeated 
them  in  a  thick,  hoarse  voice,  to  prepare  to  repel 
boarders,  and  every  man  stood  ready.  There 
were  eighty  of  them  left,  forty  on  a  side,  lined 
up  to  meet  overwhelming  numbers. 

The  grizzled  and  swarthy  rows  of  faces  on  the 
opposing  ships  stared  at  one  another  in  a  min 
ute  of  deathlike  stillness.  Then  there  was  a 
roar  like  the  raging  of  a  cataract.  The  sharp 
clang  of  grappling  -  irons,  the  grinding  and 
104 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

crunching  of  wooden  timbers  as  the  ships 
bumped  together,  the  ringing  orders  of  officers, 
and  the  cheers  of  the  men  combined  to  make 
a  sullen  noise  that  seemed  devoid  of  sense  and 
meaning.  Then  came  the  shock  of  battle,  the 
charge  and  retreat,  the  cries  and  groans,  the 
superhuman  endeavor  of  each  to  overcome  a 
dozen,  and,  finally,  the  long  painful  lull  in  the 
storm  when  each  force  tried  to  calculate  the 
damages  wrought  by  the  other. 

Captain  Granthan  stood  at  the  head  of  his 
little  force,  stern,  tragic,  and  vengeful.  Every 
boarder  had  been  repelled  on  his  side. 

"How  is  it  with  you,  Mr.  Wright?"  he 
shouted,  wheeling  around. 

"  Mr.  Wright  is  wounded,  sir ;  but  we're  hold 
ing  'em  back." 

It  was  Jones,  the  crack  gunner  of  the  priva 
teer,  who  spoke. 

"  Then  stick  to  it,  Jones,  an'  I'll  double  your 
prize-money." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,  we  will ;  and  here  they  come 
again." 

Forming  the  line  of  attack,  the  French  made 
another  attempt  to  board  the  privateer,  fling 
ing  themselves  against  the  sides  of  the  ships  like 
wild  beasts,  some  of  them  often  falling  over 
upon  the  decks  of  the  London.  But  an  irre- 

105 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

sistible  human  wall  met  them  and  hurled  back 
the  charging  line  with  sure  effect. 

Defeated  and  repulsed  the  second  time,  the 
Frenchmen  began  to  cut  loose  from  the  priva 
teer.  Captain  Granthan,  seeing  his  prizes  slip 
ping  from  him,  ran  aloft,  and  before  the  xebecs 
could  sheer  off  he  had  lashed  their  square-sail 
yards  to  the  fore-shrouds  of  the  London.  Then 
descending  to  the  deck,  he  shouted,  exultantly : 

"  Jones,  we've  got  our  prizes ;  now  make  ?em 
surrender." 

A  glance  up  at  the  entangled  shrouds  con 
vinced  every  man  of  the  desperateness  of  the 
engagement.  There  was  to  be  no  retreat.  It 
was  victory  or  surrender — or  death. 

The  attacking  forces  comprehended  the  situa 
tion  at  the  same  time ;  but  most  of  their  leaders 
were  gone,  and  half  the  men  were  demoralized 
and  discouraged  at  the  fearful  condition  that 
reigned.  Nevertheless,  they  fought  like  brave 
seamen  —  stubborn,  fearless,  and  unyielding. 
But  their  efforts  were  hopeless,  and  a  realiza 
tion  of  this  worked  more  harm  in  their  ranks 
than  the  swords  of  the  enemy. 

Captain  Granthan's  heroes  of  many  a  hard- 
fought  sea  contest  were  inflamed  by  the  act  of 
their  hero,  and  they  plunged  into  the  conflict 
with  a  surety  of  victory  that  they  never  once 

106 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

doubted.  They  hammered  away  until  both 
xebecs  struck  their  colors  and  the  Frenchmen 
laid  down  their  arms. 

"  Sir,  they've  surrendered." 

It  was  the  voice  of  Jones  which  announced 
the  victory.  Granthan  dropped  the  sword  he 
held  aloft  over  his  head,  and  looked  at  his  surly 
foe.  The  latter  did  likewise. 

"  Then,  Jones,  you'll  have  your  prize-money 
— an' — an' — mine,  too." 

"  Not  yours,  sir.    What's  the  matter  ?" 

Granthan  staggered  backward  and  fell  into 
the  powerful  arms  of  the  begrimed  gunner. 

"  I'm  done  for,  Jones." 

Then  opening  his  eyes  wearily,  he  added, 
with  a  smile: 

"  But  it  was  a  glorious  victory." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir ;  it  was." 

There  were  tears  in  the  eyes  of  the  gunner 
as  he  spoke,  and  his  voice  faltered. 

A  little  brandy  revived  the  hero  of  the  day 
and  he  opened  his  eyes  again.  He  glanced 
around  at  the  circle  of  faces,  then  beyond  them, 
where  his  eyes  remained  fixed  for  some  time. 

"  Jones,  what  ship  is  that  coming  ?  Is — is — 
it— 

"It's  the  packet,  sir — the  mail-packet  that 
you  saved." 

107 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  Then  maybe  they  want  me — me,  a  pirate ; 
but  they're  too  late." 

The  man  smiled  grimly  as  he  spoke.  Out  of 
the  clouds  of  smoke  the  mail-packet  was  loom 
ing,  working  its  way  like  a  crippled  horse  to 
wards  the  three  interlocked  ships.  A  moment 
later  she  struck  the  stern  of  the  privateer  and 
a  score  of  armed  men,  led  by  a  British  officer, 
jumped  aboard  the  London. 

"  Have  they  surrendered  ?"  demanded  the 
officer. 

"Ay,  sir,  they  have;  but  they've  killed  our 
Captain." 

Granthan  looked  long  and  steadily  at  the 
man.  Was  he  dreaming,  or  was  his  face  fa 
miliar  ?  He  had  the  features  of  one  who  long 
ago  had  sternly  sentenced  him  to  disgrace. 
How  vividly  the  scene  returned  to  him  —  the 
small,  stuffy  court  -  room,  the  row  of  stern 
judges,  that  one  face ! 

"  Are  you  injured  fatally,  Captain  ?" 

The  face  was  pressed  close  to  his.  Although 
dying,  he  still  had  the  strength  of  an  ordinary 
man.  A  knife  lay  close  to  his  hand.  With  one 
blow  he  could  repay  the  old  debt.  It  were  bet 
ter  so  than  to  let  him  escape  after  sacrificing 
his  own  life  to  save  the  ship. 

His  fingers  closed  softly  over  the  hilt  of  the 
108 ' 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

knife.  With  his  half  -  closed  eyes  he  located 
the  seat  of  the  heart. 

"  Why,  this  is  Captain  Granthan — Captain 
John  Granthan,  of  Falmouth  1" 

The  officer  rose  hastily  from  his  kneeling 
position.  Granthan  relaxed  his  clasp  on  the 
knife.  His  opportunity  was  gone.  Well,  it  were 
better  so ;  he  could  die  with  a  clean  conscience. 

"  Yes,  it  is  Captain  Granthan,  ex-convict  an' 
pirate;  an?  you — I  remember  your  face — Cap 
tain  Barker.  I — " 

"  You  bear  me  no  ill-will,  Captain !  It  was 
all  in  the  line  of  duty.  I — " 

Granthan  waved  his  hand;  he  did  not  wish 
to  reopen  the  old  wound. 

"  You've  triumphed  again,"  the  injured  man 
said,  huskily.  "  You  can  take  my  body  an7 
get  the  reward,  but  you  can't  take  me  alive.  I'll 
cheat  you  out  of  that." 

"  Reward,  Captain !  What  do  you  mean  ? 
Is  it  possible  you've  not  heard  ?" 

Granthan  stared  blankly  at  him;  he  did  not 
understand. 

"  Captain,  there's  no  reward  offered  for  you," 
Barker  said.  "  That  was  long  ago  withdrawn. 
When  the  Admiralty  heard  of  your  brave  deeds 
on  the  ocean  they  restored  you  to  rank.  Didn't 

you  save  the  bark  Hull  from  the  French  guns, 
109 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

an'  didn't  you  destroy  a  French  privateer  off 
Liverpool?  Why,  Captain,  you've  done  more 
for  the  flag  than  any  other  man  in  the  service ! 
D'you  think  this  had  no  weight  at  home? 
There  ain't  a  man  at  Falmouth  or  Liverpool 
that  don't  want  to  shake  your  hands." 

Granthan  listened  quietly,  intently;  it  was 
so  pleasant  to  hear  these  words  that  he  sighed 
when  the  man  stopped.  A  pirate  no  longer ! — 
restored  to  his  rank ! — honored  at  home ! 

"  Reward,  Captain !"  Barker  continued. 
"  Yes,  there  is  a  big  reward  offered,  but  it  is 
for  you  an'  not  for  the  man  who  brings  you 
home.  You'll  be  an  admiral  in  the  British 
navy  some  day  if  you  keep  this  up." 

Then  seeing  the  exhaustion  of  the  wounded 
man,  he  stopped,  and  turned  to  the  surgeon  of 
the  mail-packet: 

"  Here,  Wilson,  you  must  save  his  life.  I 
must  take  him  home  alive.  Captain,  rouse 
yourself;  you  must  not  die  now,  an'  like 
this!" 

Granthan  raised  himself  with  difficulty. 

"  Sir,  if  what  you  say  is  true,  I  will  not  die. 
I'll  fight  death  as  I  fought  these  Frenchmen. 
Tell  me  if  it  is  true — that  you're  not  lying  to 
me." 

There  was  a  feverish  energy  and  determina- 
110 


PIRATE    OR    PRIVATEER? 

tion  in  his  voice  that  showed  the  reserve  force 
in  his  stalwart  frame. 

"  As  Heaven  is  my  witness,  Captain,  it  is  all 
true,  an?  more,  too !" 

"Then  I  will  not  die!" 

And  the  will  power  that  rang  through  his 
words  finally  restored  him  to  health  and  to  his 
rank  in  the  British  navy. 


VIII 

THE  MUTINY  ON  THE  SWALLOW 
What  a  Boy  Did  to  Save  Life  and  Ship 


JOHN"  TEA  VIS,  of  the  bark 
Swalloiv,  670  tons  burden,  homeward 
bound  to  New  York  from  Port  Elizabeth,  South 
Africa,  did  not  like  the  looks  of  his  first  mate, 
and  he  liked  his  manners  less.  But  what  could 
he  do  ?  When  the  bark  was  ready  for  sea  Frank 
Watson,  the  young  cabin  steward,  had  come 
aboard  and  said: 

"  Captain,  Mr.  Brett  is  very  sick,  and  the 
owners  have  sent  me  down  with  Mr.  Johnson, 
who  is  to  serve  as  first  mate  in  his  place." 

Johnson  stood  in  the  cabin  door,  a  tall,  sleek, 
cadaverous  man,  with  an  eye  as  gray  and  as 
cold  as  a  November  sea.  He  shifted  restlessly 
from  one  foot  to  the  other,  and  frequently 
glanced  back  over  his  shoulder  as  if  suspicion 
lurked  in  his  shadow.  Captain  Travis  thought 
he  had  the  look  of  a  deserting  soldier,  not  to 
112 


THE    MUTINY    ON    THE    SWALLOW 

be  expected  from  an  honest  seaman;  but  what 
could  he  do?  The  tug  was  already  fussing  in 
towards  the  bark,  and  in  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
the  anchor  would  be  up  and  the  vessel  towing 
away  from  her  berth  off  Liberty  Island. 

"  Are  you  an  American  ?"  asked  the  Captain. 

"  No,  sir/'  replied  Johnson,  respectfully ; 
"  I'm  from  Nova  Scotia." 

"  You  breed  good  seamen  there.  Well,  Mr. 
Johnson,  have  your  dunnage  stowed  and  make 
yourself  comfortable." 

Captain  Travis  knew  now  that  he  was  the 
only  American  aboard  the  bark,  except  the 
steward,  who  was  only  a  boy  of  seventeen.  The 
second  mate  was  a  Portuguese  named  Menzies, 
a  brown-faced,  heavy-browed  fellow,  with  the 
track  of  an  old  knife-scar  showing  red  and 
white  down  his  left  cheek.  There  were  eleven 
men  in  the  crew — four  Belgians,  three  Italians, 
one  German,  one  Swede,  and  two  Lascars.  The 
cargo  was  wool,  and  was  worth  $100,000.  Cap 
tain  Travis  thought  of  all  that,  and  for  a  few 
minutes  his  heart  played  with  his  ribs  as  it 
never  had  before  at  the  beginning  of  a  voyage. 
Yet  Port  Elizabeth  was  reached  and  the  cargo 
discharged  without  a  disquieting  murmur. 
The  bark  was  well  provisioned  and  there  was 
not  a  whole  day  of  heavy  weather,  so  that  the 
113 


THE    BATTLE    FOR   THE    PACIFIC 

crew  had  no  excuse  for  dissatisfaction.  Never 
theless,  the  bark's  work  was  done  loosely  and 
lazily,  and  before  the  port  of  destination  was 
reached  Captain  Travis  spoke  twice  to  his 
mates,  cautioning  them  to  keep  the  men  up 
to  their  tasks.  They  answered  respectfully 
enough,  but  the  Captain  thought  he  detected  an 
undercurrent  of  ill-feeling.  He  wished  heartily 
that  his  familiar  and  trusted  first  mate  Brett 
was  with  him.  He  wished  still  more  earnestly 
that  he  and  the  boy  were  not  the  only  Ameri 
cans  aboard.  Yet  the  Swallow  flew  to  Port 
Elizabeth  on  the  wings  of  peace. 

It  was  as  pretty  a  day  as  one  could  wish  to 
see  in  those  latitudes  when  she  spread  her  wings 
for  her  homeward  flight.  The  sky  was  cloud 
less,  and  glowed  from  horizon  to  horizon  with 
a  deep,  lambent  blue  which  repeated  itself  in 
a  darker  shade  in  the  sea.  The  breeze  was 
moderate,  cool,  and  steady,  and  it  flowed  over 
the  port  quarter  in  a  sweet  torrent  of  salt  per 
fume  which  drove  the  bark  along  at  a  pretty 
pace  of  eight  knots  an  hour.  The  bark  herself, 
plain  and  severe  as  she  was,  without  glittering 
brass-work  or  hard-wood  ornament,  was  a  good 
picture  for  a  seaman's  eye  as  she  plunged  for 
ward  over  the  sparkling  slopes,  garbed  in 

creamy  swells  of  tense  canvas  up  to  the  very 
114 


THE    MUTINY    ON    THE    SWALLOW 

needle-points  of  her  royal  masts.  Captain  John 
Travis  swung  forward  and  aft  along  the  weather 
side  of  the  poop-deck,  and  wondered  whether 
he  had  been  in  his  senses  when  he  sailed  out 
of  !N"ew  York  with  a  mind  full  of  black  fore 
bodings. 

Pleasant  seas  and  fair  winds  followed  the 
bark  for  several  weeks,  and  everything  seemed 
to  promise  a  speedy  voyage  home.  The  Swal 
low  was  now  well  towards  the  latitude  of  Ber 
muda,  but  still  some  five  hundred  miles  south 
of  that  port.  The  young  moon,  low  in  the  west, 
was  laying  a  path  of  dim  silver  along  the  glassy 
seas  when  the  Captain  went  on  deck  in  the 
first  mate's  watch  and,  leaning  on  the  taffrail, 
idly  watched  the  flashing  of  the  milky  foam 
which  swirled  sternward  from  under  the  bark's 
counter.  The  first  mate  saluted  him  in  a  some 
what  careless  manner  and  walked  towards  the 
break  of  the  poop.  At  that  instant,  from  some 
place  in  the  shadowy  gloom  under  the  weather- 
rail,  the  boy  Frank  Watson  slipped  swiftly  to 
the  Captain's  side. 

"  Come  below,  sir ;  come  below.  I  have 
something  to  tell  you,"  said  the  boy,  in  a 
whisper. 

The  next  instant  he  was  gone,  and  the  Cap 
tain  stood  half  in  doubt  as  to  whether  he  had 

9  115 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

heard  aright.  But  the  sight  of  the  lean  form 
of  his  first  mate  looming  in  black  relief  against 
the  pallid  swell  of  the  spanker  decided  him,  and 
with  a  half -muttered  "  Good-night  "  he  descend 
ed.  He  found  the  boy  waiting  for  him  in  the 
cabin  with  a  face  full  of  feverish  anxiety. 

"  Well,  what  is  it  ?"  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  sir,"  said  the  boy,  "  speak  low !  They 
may  hear  us." 

"They?    Who?" 

"  Oh,  any  of  them,  sir !  I  guess  they're  all 
in  it." 

"In  what?" 

"  That's  what  I  want  to  tell  you,  sir." 

The  Captain  instinctively  braced  his  nerves 
for  a  shock. 

"  Go  ahead,"  he  said. 

"  You  were  asleep  this  afternoon,  sir,"  said 
the  boy,  "  in  the  first  dog-watch,  and  I  was 
scouring  the  telltale  compass.  It  hangs  right 
under  the  skylight  there,  sir,  and  that  was  open 
on  a  crack,  and  I  heard  Mr.  Johnson  and  Mr. 
Menzies  talking.  They  must  have  been  sitting 
on  the  after  -  end  of  the  skylight,  and  they 
couldn't  see  me.  I  didn't  mean  to  listen  to 
them  at  first.  But  after  I'd  heard  a  few  words 
by  accident,  I  listened  as  hard  as  I  could.  Mr. 

Johnson  said  to  Mr.  Menzies  that  a  tidy  sum  of 
116 


THE  MUTINY  ON  THE  SWALLOW 

money  could  be  made  by  taking  the  Swallow 
into  Bermuda  instead  of  New  York.  Mr. 
Menzies  wanted  to  know  how,  and  Mr.  John 
son  said  that  they  could  pretend  the  bark  needed 
repairs.  After  getting  into  harbor  they  could 
open  the  water-pipes  and  then  call  for  a  sur 
vey.  After  the  officers  were  aboard  the  ship 
could  be  pumped  out,  and  in  about  an  hour  the 
pipes  could  be  started  again.  That  would  make 
the  surveyors  think  the  bark  was  leaking,  and 
big  repairs  could  be  ordered.  Of  course,  then, 
the  man  that  had  the  contract  would  have  to  be 
in  with  them  and  tinker  around  for  a  time,  mak 
ing  believe  that  he  was  doing  a  big  job.  The 
next  time  the  pumps  were  tried  they  would  show 
that  the  bark  was  sound,  and  so  there  would  be 
a  good  sum  of  money  to  divide.  Mr.  Menzies 
said  he  didn't  like  the  scheme,  because  the  crew 
would  all  have  to  be  let  into  it.  It  would  be 
easier,  he  said,  to  run  the  bark  ashore  some 
where  and  take  chances  on  what  they  could 
get  out  of  the  wreck." 

"  Of  course !"  exclaimed  the  Captain.  "  He's 
a  sweet  scoundrel,  he  is !" 

"Don't  speak  so  loud,   sir,"   said  the  boy, 

earnestly;    "they'd    cut    our    throats    if    they 

thought  we  knew.     Mr.  Menzies  said  that  you 

would  have  to  be  got  out  of  the  way.    Mr.  John- 

117 


THE   BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

son  said  he'd  fix  you,  and  he'd  do  it  so  that  no 
one  would  ever  know  that  you  hadn't  done  it 
yourself." 

Captain  Travis  stood  for  a  minute  silent  and 
motionless.  He  was  almost  dumfounded  at  the 
revelations,  and  the  horror  of  his  situation,  at 
sea  with  a  mutinous  crew  and  only  a  faithful 
boy  confronted  him  in  its  most  appalling  colors. 
But  John  Travis  came  of  sound  stock.  His  thin 
lips  compressed  themselves  into  a  hard  line  and 
a  cold  light  gleamed  in  his  blue  eyes. 

"  I'll  see  this  thing  through,"  he  said,  in  a 
low  voice,  "  and  we'll  find  out  whether  brains 
aren't  better  than  brutality.  You  go  on  about 
your  work,  and  don't  give  the  slightest  sign 
that  you  know  there's  anything  amiss.  You 
understand  ?" 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Here,  put  this  in  your  pocket." 

The  Captain  opened  a  locker  and  took  out 
two  revolvers,  one  of  which  he  gave  to  Frank, 
and  the  other  he  kept  himself. 

"  !Now,"  said  Captain  Travis  to  himself,  "  it 
does  not  make  much  difference  which  of  the 
schemes  they  undertake.  My  work  is  to  pre 
vent  them  from  getting  rid  of  me,  and  also 
from  getting  within  sight  of  Bermuda.  I'll 

just  doctor  the  chronometer   a  little.      It's  a 
118 


THE  MUTINY  ON  THE  SWALLOW 

lucky  thing  that  Johnson  is  such  a  poor  navi 
gator.  He'll  never  notice  the  sudden  change  of 
the  clock's  rate." 

A  very  small  change  in  the  reading  of  a 
chronometer  will  make  a  great  difference  in  the 
longitude  obtained  by  observation,  so  when  Cap 
tain  Travis  had  altered  the  hands  of  the  chro 
nometer  in  his  room  a  few  minutes,  he  had  pre 
pared  a  genuine  surprise  for  his  mate.  It  was 
his  purpose  to  alter  the  reading  of  the  clock 
every  day  a  little,  so  as  to  make  the  bark  seem 
to  be  much  farther  east  than  she  really  was. 
Thus  the  conspirators  would  think  she  was  near 
Bermuda  when,  really,  she  was  close  to  the 
American  coast.  By  keeping  for  himself  a 
memorandum  of  the  amount  of  the  alteration 
he  would  be  able  to  compute  the  true  position 
of  the  vessel. 

"  There,"  he  muttered,  as  he  screwed  down 
the  lid  again,  "  I  know  something  now  that  you 
don't,  my  fine  friends.  But  I've  got  to  keep 
the  breath  of  life  in  me,  and  to  do  that  may  not 
be  so  easy." 

Captain  Travis  did  not  sleep  well  that  night, 
and  he  was  on  deck  early  in  the  morning. 
There  was  not  a  sign  of  mutiny.  The  bark 
was  under  everything  to  her  top-gallants,  with  a 
brisk  breeze  just  a  point  forward  of  her  star- 

119 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

board  beam.  The  sea  was  fairly  smooth,  but 
running  in  a  deep  swell.  The  bark  thundered 
into  the  black  hollows  and  leaped  over  the  foam 
ing  crests  at  a  ten-knot  speed,  and  the  big  Ger 
man  at  the  wheel  gripped  the  spokes  with  strain 
ed  arms  as  he  stared  sullenly  into  the  compass- 
bowl.  Menzies,  the  second  mate,  leaned  against 
the  railing  of  the  poop  and  gazed  steadily  ahead, 
as  if  expecting  to  see  Bermuda  rise  untimely 
from  behind  the  hardened  horizon.  The  watch 
sprawled  lazily  about  the  forecastle,  and  a  thin 
haze  of  blue  swirling  to  leeward  from  the  ca 
boose  chimney  told  that  the  cook  was  preparing 
early  coffee.  Not  a  thing  could  the  Captain  see 
that  was  suspicious,  and  he  was  half  inclined 
to  think  that  the  story  of  the  previous  night 
had  been  a  bad  dream.  But  Menzies  started 
and  glared  at  him  as  he  ascended  the  poop 
ladder,  and  he  was  once  more  on  his  guard. 

All  that  day  Captain  Travis  walked  on  a 
slumbering  volcano.  But  there  was  no  ex 
plosion.  There  was  a  rumble  at  noon  when  the 
first  mate  found  his  dead-reckoning  and  his 
position  by  observation  so  much  apart.  But 
that  passed  by  with  a  curse  upon  unknown  cur 
rents  and  an  oath  at  shrunk  log-lines.  The 
same  thing  happened  on  the  following  day,  and 
on  the  third  day,  when  the  bark  was  really  west- 

120 


THE  MUTINY  ON  THE  SWALLOW 

southwest  of  Bermuda,  while  the  conspirators 
thought  her  a  goodly  distance  southeast  of  that 
island. 

The  afternoon  sun  fell  wan  and  watery  in  the 
wet  west,  and  fitful  gusts  of  petulant  wind  came 
out  of  the  southeast.  The  Swallow's  wings 
were  clipped  to  her  topsails,  but  before  the 
growing  blast  she  flew  fast.  The  darkness 
closed  in  over  a  rude  and  boisterous  scene.  The 
fitful  gusts  had  grown  to  a  steady  outpour  of 
wind  that  was  swiftly  hardening  into  a  gale. 
The  following  seas  had  swelled  into  towering 
cliffs  of  slanting  gray  and  hissing  foam  that 
stormed  down  on  the  little  vessel  in  a  wild  and 
weird  race.  The  Swallow's  stern  swung  high  in 
air  as  her  bows  crashed  down  into  the  gloomy 
hollows  of  the  underrunning  seas,  and  the  secret 
spaces  of  her  hold  were  filled  with  the  loud 
groaning  of  her  strained  timbers. 

"  Keep  her  as  she  goes,"  said  Captain  Travis, 
as  he  went  below  to  supper,  "  and  we'll  heave  to 
when  it  comes  to  blow  harder." 

"  Ay,  ay,  sir,"  said  the  second  mate,  sullenly. 
But  the  man  at  the  wheel  let  her  yaw  off  two 
points,  with  a  curl  on  his  lip  as  he  did  it. 

Johnson,  the  first  mate,  came  out  of  the  cabin 
as  the  Captain  passed  in,  giving  his  superior  a 
curt  nod.  His  face  was  white  and  his  eyes 

121 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

gleamed  like  green  ice.  The  young  steward 
came  from  the  caboose  with  a  steaming  dish, 
and  took  up  the  coffee-pot  to  get  fresh  coffee. 
Captain  Travis  ate  in  chilled  silence,  as  a  man 
would  with  the  shadow  of  death  upon  him.  But 
when  he  had  hastily  swallowed  half  a  cup  of  the 
coffee  he  set  the  cup  down  with  a  sudden  blanch 
ing  of  his  face  and  a  wild  stare  in  his  eyes. 

"  They've  done  it !"  he  said,  in  a  hoarse 
whisper. 

"  Done  what,  sir  ?"  asked  the  boy,  feverishly. 

For  answer  the  Captain  sprang  up  and  open 
ed  the  top  drawer  in  his  own  room.  He  drew 
from  it  a  bottle  labelled  "  Laudanum."  It  was 
empty. 

"  That  was  in  the  coffee !  Johnson  knew  I 
had  it;  he  saw  me  use  some  for  an  aching 
tooth !  Get  some  sea-water — warm — quick !" 

The  boy  dashed  out  of  the  cabin  door.  The 
Captain  walked  the  floor  with  the  horrible  anx 
iety  of  a  man  who  knows  there  is  poison  in 
him  and  who  waits  to  feel  its  work  begin.  The 
boy  seemed  to  be  gone  an  interminable  time. 
Suddenly  the  Captain  felt  himself  sway,  and 
was  conscious  of  a  dimness  in  his  vision.  The 
drug  had  begun  its  work.  He  struggled  against 
it  as  one  fights  death,  for  it  was  death.  He 
rushed  blindly  up  and  down  the  cabin,  bruising 

122 


THE  MUTINY  ON  THE  SWALLOW 

his  face  and  limbs  as  he  staggered  against  doors 
and  stanchions  in  his  desperate  race  againsfc 
overmastering  sleep.  His  throat  burned;  stars 
danced  before  his  eyes ;  his  breath  came  in  sobs ; 
and  he  was  on  the  brink  of  a  fierce  scream  of 
despair  when  the  boy  burst  into  the  cabin. 

"  Here,  sir !  Drink  it,  quick !  I  couldn't  get 
it  before.  They  were  watching  me.  It's  out  of 
the  lee  waterways,  sir,  but  it  '11  make  you 
sick." 

The  Captain  seized  the  pannikin  of  luke 
warm  salt-water  and  drained  it  at  a  single 
draught.  Then  came  a  brief  spasm  of  death 
ly  sickness,  followed  by  a  few  moments  of 
peace. 

"Now,  Frank,"  said  Captain  Travis,  "your 
life  and  mine  depend  upon  your  obeying  my 
orders.  Don't  let  me  go  to  sleep.  Shut  the 
skylights  so  they  can't  see  what  we're  doing 
here.  Walk  me  up  and  down,  beat  me,  kick 
me,  but  don't  let  me  go  to  sleep.  If  you  do, 
I'll  never  see  daylight  again,  and  neither  will 
you." 

For  an  hour  the  Captain  and  the  boy  fought 
sleep,  the  twin  brother  of  death,  while  the  bark 
went  staggering  and  crashing  over  the  leaping 
ridges  through  the  fathomless  gloom  of  the  wild 
night.  Suddenly  there  was  a  wider  lurch  and 
123 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

then  a  heavy  roll.  The  Captain  straightened 
himself  up  with  a  mighty  effort  and  gazed  at 
the  telltale  compass  over  his  head. 

"  The  fools  I"  he  said.  "  They've  headed  her 
due  west — for  Bermuda,  they  think.  Or,  do 
they  hope  to  wreck  her  ?" 

"  I  think  they'll  try  to  get  rid  of  you  first, 
sir." 

"  They  have  tried,  but  I'm  here  yet,  and 
I'm  going  to  stay.  Wait,  wait.  We're  not  out 
of  this  yet.  Let  me  think — let  me  think,  if  I 
can,  with  a  brain  that  is  swimming  and  burning 
at  the  same  time." 

"  They're  sure  to  come  down  to  see  if  you're 
— asleep,"  said  Frank. 

"  Yes,  that's  it.  I'll  beat  them,  then,"  said 
the  Captain,  rubbing  his  forehead  vigorously. 
Then  he  staggered  and  fell  forward. 

"  Get  up !  get  up !"  cried  Frank. 

The  boy  seized  a  heavy  strap  which  lay  in  a 
corner,  and  beat  his  Captain  mercilessly.  The 
man  groaned,  rolled  over,  and  presently,  stag 
gering  to  his  feet,  clasped  the  boy  in  a  hostile 
embrace. 

"  You'll  murder  me,  will  you,  Johnson  ?"  he 
muttered. 

"  It's  Frank,  sir,  Frank !"  exclaimed  the  boy, 

wildlv. 

124 


THE    MUTINY    ON    THE    SWALLOW 

The  Captain's  brain  cleared.  He  clasped 
the  boy  in  an  embrace  of  love  and  gratitude. 
"  I'm  ready  now,"  he  said.  "  Come." 
He  went  to  his  room  and  arranged  the  pil 
lows  and  covering  of  his  bunk  so  that  in  the 
dim  light  they  looked  like  the  form  of  a  man 
asleep.  Then  he  and  the  boy  concealed  them 
selves  behind  the  cabin  table.  The  swinging- 
lamp  burned  low  and  filled  the  place  with  dim, 
changeful  shadows.  Half  an  hour  passed,  and 
the  cabin  door  opened  and  Johnson  entered 
alone.  He  closed  the  door  very  softly,  steady 
ing  himself  against  its  frame,  and  stood  peering 
around  the  cabin  with  his  icy  gray  eyes.  The 
Captain  and  the  steward  did  not  breathe.  John 
son  started  with  the  tread  of  a  panther  towards 
the  Captain's  room.  He  paused  several  times 
and  listened — as  if  one  could  hear  anything 
but  the  furious  thunder  of  the  mighty  seas  and 
the  mad  howling  of  the  gale !  Hours  seemed  to 
pass,  but  at  length  he  reached  the  Captain's 
door.  He  looked  into  the  room  and  saw  what 
he  thought  was  the  Captain's  form.  A  smile 
of  fearful  evil  distorted  his  chill  features  as  he 
slowly  drew  from  the  leg  of  one  of  his  sea-boots 
a  long,  keen  knife.  Frank  Watson's  breath  came 
in  sobs,  while  the  Captain  gripped  his  shoulders 
with  iron  fingers.  The  mate  entered  the  room, 
125 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

and  at  the  same  instant  the  Captain  crept  out 
from  behind  the  table.  The  mate  raised  the 
knife,  and  felt  with  his  left  hand  for  the  Cap 
tain's  breast.  He  stopped,  bent  down,  and  ex 
claimed  : 

"  Curse  him !    It's  not  him  at  all !" 

He  turned  swiftly,  but  at  that  moment  the 
Captain  slammed  the  door  of  his  room  and  lock 
ed  it.  Johnson  was  a  prisoner. 

"  I  know  your  whole  scheme,"  said  the  Cap 
tain  at  the  key-hole. 

"  Then  you  know  you're  no  better  than  a  dead 
man,"  said  Johnson.  "  You've  got  Menzies  and 
the  crew  to  deal  with  yet.  Let  me  out,  and  I'll 
spare  your  life." 

"  You'll  stay  where  you  are,"  said  the  Cap 
tain,  "  and  in  less  than  three  hours  you'll  be 
begging  me  to  spare  yours." 

A  muttered  curse  was  the  only  answer,  and 
the  next  moment  Johnson  hurled  his  lank  form 
violently  against  the  door  in  a  vain  attempt  to 
burst  it  open.  Three  several  times  he  repeated 
the  attempt.  Then  the  Captain  said : 

"  Back  to  our  hiding-place,  Frank.  We  shall 
have  Menzies  down  in  a  few  minutes  to  see  if 
the  deed  is  done." 

A  silence  filled  with  the  shrieking  noises  of 
the  outer  world  brooded  in  the  cabin  for  half 
126 


THE    MUTINY    ON    THE    SWALLOW 

an  hour.  At  the  end  of  that  time  the  door 
swung  open  and  Menzies,  with  a  glittering 
knife  in  his  hand,  strode  in.  The  sallow  pallor 
of  his  face  and  the  red  glare  of  his  eyes  told 
plainly  that  he  scented  danger.  He  paused  for 
a  moment  to  gaze  around  him,  and  then  sprang 
towards  the  Captain's  room. 

"  Is  the  fool  dead,  Johnson  ?"  he  called. 

"]XTo!" 

The  Captain's  voice  rang  in  his  ear  and  the 
Captain's  hand  was  at  his  throat.  John  Travis 
had  made  a  mistake.  Menzies  shook  off  his  grip 
with  the  strength  of  a  giant,  and  at  the  same 
instant  drove  one  of  his  huge  fists  into  the  Cap 
tain's  face,  knocking  him  clear  off  his  feet.  At 
that  perilous  moment  Johnson  pried  the  lock 
of  the  Captain's  door  with  his  knife  and  dashed 
out. 

"  Kill  him !  kill  him,  Menzies !"  he  shouted, 
springing  towards  the  still  prostrate  Captain. 

A  wild  lurch  of  the  reeling  bark  hurled  the 
mate  against  his  associate  in  crime,  and  the 
Captain,  his  head  ringing  and  still  dizzy  from 
the  effects  of  the  blow  which  he  had  received, 
arose  to  his  feet.  The  two  mates,  recovering 
from  their  collision,  dashed  at  him.  At  that  in 
stant  there  was  a  sharp  red  flash  and  a  report. 
The  second  mate  staggered,  uttered  a  groaning 
127 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

execration,  and  fell  in  a  limp  heap  across  the 
cabin  table.  Frank  Watson  had  shot  him 
through  the  breast. 

Johnson,  seeing  his  partner  killed  and  the 
drawn  pistol  in  the  Captain's  hand,  dropped  the 
knife  and  threw  up  his  hands. 

"  Don't  shoot !"  he  exclaimed.     "  I  give  in." 

"  I  told  you  that  inside  of  three  hours  you 
would  beg  me  for  your  life.  Now  you  do  ex 
actly  as  I  tell  you,  or  you're  a  dead  man.  I'm 
going  to  order  that  boy  to  open  the  skylight. 
You  will  then  call  to  the  man  at  the  wheel  and 
say  to  him : (  The  Captain  is  all  right ;  he  stands 
in  with  us.  Let  her  off  a  point.'  You  under 
stand  r 

Johnson  nodded  tremulously,  and  the  Cap 
tain  stepped  inside  the  door  of  his  room,  where 
he  could  cover  the  mate  with  his  revolver  and 
be  invisible  from  the  skylight,  which  Frank 
opened.  Johnson  shouted  his  message  to  the 
man  at  the  wheel,  who  answered,  with  a  yell : 

"  Blamed  lucky  for  him.  A  point  off  she 
goes." 

At  a  sign  from  the  Captain,  Frank  closed  the 
skylight. 

"  Now  go  into  your  own  room,"  said  the  Cap 
tain  to  Johnson.  The  mate  very  sullenly  obey 
ed,  and  was  locked  in. 

128 


THE    MUTINY    ON    THE    SWALLOW 

"  Keep  guard  over  that  door  with  your  re 
volver  till  morning,"  said  the  Captain  to  the 
boy.  "  I'm  going  on  deck." 

John  Travis  ascended  the  poop  and  nodded 
to  the  man  at  the  wheel. 

"  Mr.  Johnson  and  Mr.  Menzies  are  taking 
a  night  in,"  he  shouted  in  the  man's  ear. 
"  We'll  be  in  port  in  the  morning." 

The  man  grinned. 

"  None  dis  crew  ever  been  in  Bermooda,"  he 
shouted.  "  But  I  t'ink  we'll  be  glad  dis  time." 

The  Captain  smiled  grimly  and  walked  away. 
Two  hours  later  the  gale  abated  and  a  light  was 
sighted  ahead.  The  Captain  took  the  wheel 
himself  and  brought  the  ship  to  her  anchorage. 
When  the  dawn  broke  the  dazed  crew  found 
themselves  under  the  guns  of  Fort  Monroe,  with 
the  ensign  flying  at  the  spanker-peak,  union 
down.  They  never  knew  how  it  was  hoisted, 
and  before  they  recovered  from  their  amaze 
ment  a  boat  was  alongside  and  they  were  all 
under  arrest.  And  that  was  the  end  of  the 
mutiny  on  the  Swallow. 


IX 

THE    SCAPE-GOAT    OF   LA  JUST/CIA 
The  Strange  Tale  of  a   lt  Revolution  " 

"'W'ES,  I'll  run  your  boat  down,  but  I  want 
I     five  hundred  dollars  for  the  job.     Oh  no, 
you  understand  English  all  right,  and  I  want 
the  money  paid  in  gold  before  I  go." 

The  speaker  leaned  on  the  back  of  his  chair, 
and  scanned  closely  the  faces  of  the  three  men 
at  the  broad  table  before  him.  He  had  ex 
pected  and  hoped  for  the  summons  that  brought 
him  here  before  these  men,  whom  he  knew  were 
confronted  by  the  perplexing  problem  of  find 
ing  an  engineer  to  run  the  man-of-wair  La 
Justicia  and  two  hundred  troops  down  to  Boca 
las  Animas.  Since  the  revolution  had  stopped 
the  work  on  the  breakwater  the  engineer  had 
watched  closely  the  drastic  methods  of  this 
South-American  government  to  pacify  its  un 
ruly  children.  He  was  well  acquainted  with 
the  rebel  situation  in  Boca  las  Animas ;  he  knew 
130 


THE  SCAPE-GOAT  OF  LA  JUSTICIA 

that  La  Just  Ida's  engineers  had  deserted  to  the 
mountains;  and  he  knew  that  La  Justicia  had 
to  sail  that  night;  the  troops  were  on  board. 
So  when  the  polite  summons  to  the  Admiral's 
presence  had  come,  the  engineer  straightway 
set  his  price.  He  felt  security  in  his  rights  and 
protection  as  a  citizen  of  these  United  States; 
he  knew  the  extremity  of  the  men  before  him ; 
and  while  they  seemed  to  consider  his  demand, 
the  engineer's  mind  was  busy  with  thoughts  of 
a  four-inch  pile  of  twenty-dollar  gold-pieces. 

Then  the  small  man  of  the  three,  the  man  in 
gold  braid,  spoke,  and  as  he  talked  his  southern 
vehemence  grew. 

"  You,"  he  repeated,  fiercely,  as  he  advanced 
towards  the  engineer  — "  you  will  run  that 
steamer  to  Boca  las  Animas,  you  will  serve  us 
well,  you  will  not  get  a  cent  for  it,  and,  if  you 
object,  we  will  blow  your  head  off." 

As  the  small  man  stopped  talking  his  ges 
ticulating  right-arm  was  waving  over  the  en 
gineer's  shoulder  and  his  angry  face  was  within 
three  inches  of  the  engineer's  own. 

The  engineer's  eyes  turned  to  the  other  men, 
only  to  find  himself  fairly  covered  with  a  re 
volver  by  one,  as  the  third  man  reappeared  in 
the  doorway,  followed  by  two  soldiers. 

"  Now  take  him,"  said  the  small  man. 

10  131 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

The  soldiers  fell  in  behind,  while  the  other 
two  men  took  places  at  his  side.  The  small  man 
stood  in  front  and  smiled. 

"  All  right,  all  right/'  broke  out  the  engineer, 
and  his  voice  rose  with  the  anger  that  mastered 
him.  "  You've  got  me  now ;  but  just  you  wait 
till  my  government  hears  of  this.  We'll  blow 
this  port  back  into  the  mountains.  We'll — " 

The  small  man  leaned  forward  and  his  face 
darkened.  "  Basta  "  he  hissed  —  "  basta,  6 
sino." 

And  a  soldier  behind,  seeing  his  master's  ap 
proval,  brought  the  butt  end  of  his  pistol  down 
hard  on  the  engineer's  skull. 

In  these  troublous  times  the  sight  of  a  prison 
er  on  the  streets  attracts  little  attention;  men 
are  afraid  their  interest  will  excite  suspicion. 
The  engineer  and  his  guard  passed  rapidly 
down  the  steep  hill  from  the  barracks.  It  was 
growing  dark,  with  good  promise  of  a  stormy 
night.  Already  gusts  of  rain  blew  in  from  the 
sea  and  rattled  against  the  sheet-iron  windows 
of  the  warehouses.  In  the  darkness  and  rain 
the  men  stumbled  over  the  timbers  and  rocks, 
scattered  as  they  were  on  the  night  when  work 
on  the  breakwater  ceased.  In  the  lee  of  the  first 
completed  stretch  of  the  jetty  La  Justicia  rested 
quietly.  To  windward  the  waves  flung  thena- 

132 


THE  SCAPE-GOAT  OF  LA  JUST/CIA 

selves  against  the  solid  wall,  and  the  spray 
mixed  with  the  driving  rain,  and  tasted  salt  on 
the  lips  of  the  expectant  men  on  the  steamer's 
deck. 

In  the  darkness  and  wind  the  man-of-war 
passed  slowly  out  of  the  harbor. 

La  Justicia  had  been  a  freighter.  She  was 
two  hundred  odd  feet  long,  and  was  finishing 
her  days  as  a  transport  for  this  South- Ameri 
can  federation.  The  troops  were  packed  close 
ly  in  her  dimly  lit  holds.  They  were  pleased  to 
be  dry,  and  they  laughed  as  the  vessel  rolled 
till  the  swinging-lanterns  struck  the  deck-beams. 
This  way  was  certainly  better,  they  said,  than 
making  the  trip  in  coasting  schooners  and  sloops 
a  quarter  the  size  of  La  Justicia. 

The  lights  of  El  Puerto  had  been  soon  lost, 
and  now  the  vessel,  showing  no  lights,  thrashed 
ahead  into  the  black  night. 

In  the  engine  -  room  the  engineer  sat  and 
smoked.  The  clanking  steel-bars  moved  and 
flashed  regularly,  and  the  damp  air  blew  in 
from  the  lee  doors.  In  the  beginning,  when 
orders  from  the  pilot-house  came  thick  and  fast 
and  kept  the  engineer  busy,  his  two  armed 
guards  had  watched  him  carefully.  One  at  each 
door  they  stood,  rifles  in  their  hands.  But  now 
that  the  situation  was  well  understood  and  ac- 

133 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

cepted  by  the  engineer,  and  that  he  had  settled 
himself  to  his  all  -  night's  vigil,  guards  and 
prisoner  sat  and  chatted  together,  and  the  rifles, 
were  stowed  in  a  rack. 

La  Justicia  rolled  and  pounded  ahead  into 
the  night.  Aft,  by  the  steady  and  faint  light 
of  a  mast-head  lantern,  a  man  was  unfurling  a 
flag  of  curious  design.  He  bent  it  to  wet  hal 
yards  and  it  flung  out  into  the  wind  as  stiff  as 
a  board.  Immediately  the  darkness  swallowed 
it,  and  in  the  lantern-light  the  man  heaved  long 
at  the  tugging  halyards. 

The  engineer  had  watched  and  wondered 
from  the  lee  door  of  his  engine-room.  When  the 
wet  ceremony  was  over  he  turned  to  his  guards 
for  an  explanation.  At  that  moment  La 
Justicia' s  course  was  changed,  for  she  took  the 
seas  more  on  her  beam. 

"  You  are  no  longer  running  a  government 
boat,"  said  one  of  his  guards ;  "  but  what's  the 
odds  to  you,  a  foreigner?  Government  or 
revolutionists,  it  must  be  all  one.  You'll  land 
in  La  Vela  instead  of  Boca  las  Animas,  and 
then  your  job's  over.  By  to-morrow  this  vessel 
and  every  man  in  her  will  be  with  the  rebels; 
the  whole  company  have  deserted  to  the  side 
where  they  want  to  fight,  and  we  are  taking  the 
boat  with  us.  And  it's  been  no  easy  matter 

134 


THE  SCAPE-GOAT  OF  LA  JUSTICIA 

to  bring  this  about ;  it  would  have  fallen  through 
if  the  government  had  not  supplied  us  last  night 
with  an  engineer.  And  their  ways  with  you  were 
none  too  gentle,  and  we  don't  think  you  bear 
them  much  ill-will."  So  the  engineer  took 
service  with  the  rebels. 

Through  the  hours  of  the  early  morning  the 
engineer  watched  his  machinery  while  his 
guards  dozed.  The  troops  slept  as  they  could 
in  the  crowded  holds.  Some  three  hours  after 
the  vessel's  course  had  been,  changed  the  men 
on  the  bridge  began  to  feel  uneasy  as  to  their 
exact  position.  Certain  of  the  troops,  who  had 
often  felt  their  way  along  this  unlighted  coast 
in  sloops  and  schooners,  were  routed  out  and 
questioned.  But  they  had  paid  no  attention  to 
the  course,  and,  being  unused  to  a  steamship, 
they  had  no  correct  idea  of  the  distance  covered. 
Their  answers  were  conflicting  and  uncertain, 
and  served  only  to  increase  the  apprehension 
of  those  in  charge.  There  was  nothing  but 
utter  blackness  ahead  of  them,  and  the  vessel 
rolled  into  it  perseveringly.  On  the  bridge 
there  was  conflict  of  authority  that  boded  ill 
if  danger  came.  At  ten  minutes  past  four  the 
engine-room  bell  clanged,  and  the  engineer 
jumped  to  his  throttles.  There  was  a  commotion 

in  the  crowded  holds  and  excited  tramping  on 
*      135 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

deck.  The  engineer  stood  by  expectant,  and 
stopped  and  backed  as  the  bells  ordered.  Then 
came  "  full  speed  ahead/'  and  the  engineer 
opened  her  wide.  She  took  speed  slowly,  and 
lifted  her  bows  high  on  a  big  sea.  It  was  her 
last  plunge,  for  she  came  down  with  a  crash  and 
a  shiver  on  the  hard  coral  rocks,  and  they  tore 
through  her  iron  sides  and  held  her  fast.  She 
rolled  over  to  port  like  a  wounded  bird,  and  the 
coral  cut  her  through.  She  righted,  and  wrench 
ed  out  life-boats  and  davits.  The  engineer  was 
thrown  from  his  post,  and  as  he  arose  from  the 
gratings  the  terrified  firemen  trampled  on  him 
in  their  mad  efforts  to  reach  the  deck.  From 
the  holds  arose  a  confused  din,  and  at  the 
hatches  the  officers  drove  back  the  frenzied 
troops  with  a  rain  of  blows  from  sheathed 
swords.  Those  on  deck  stumbled  and  fell  in 
the  darkness,  and  called  wildly,  till  a  heavy 
crash  of  black  water  left  them  gasping  for 
breath. 

La  Justicia  held  fast  in  her  coral  berth  and 
the  waters  beat  at  her  till  morning.  Two  brown 
bodies  rolling  on  the  hard  sand  in  the  gray  light 
told  those  on  shore  that  a  transport  had  been 
wrecked.  Daylight  showed  the  exhausted  crew 
a  dim  line  of  beach,  with  palms  showing  over 

the  hanging  mist  of  the  breakers,  a  mile  to  lee- 
136 


THE  SCAPE-GOAT  OF  LA  JUSTICIA 

ward.  The  sea  went  down.  An  hour  later  the 
white  hull  of  the  government  tug  Augusta 
showed  in  the  offing.  She  was  bearing  down 
on  them.  Immediately  there  was  much  excite 
ment  among  the  officers  of  the  wrecked  man-of- 
war.  Here  were  rescue  and  safety,  but  with  them 
came  fear  of  an  inquiry  into  the  wrecking  and 
a  knowledge  of  the  treason  that  brought  it  about. 
The  officers  decided  that  the  silence  of  each 
and  every  man  on  board  could  alone  save  them 
from  the  punishment  for  their  crime  against 
the  state,  and  each  man  was  given  plainly  to 
understand  what  his  end  would  be  should  the 
fateful  words  come  from  him.  The  flag  of 
curious  design  had  been  weighted  and  cast  over 
board.  It  only  remained  to  decide  upon  a  meth 
od  to  explain  their  unexpected  position  to  those 
on  board  the  Augusto.  There  was  much  dis 
cussion  till  the  last  moment,  and  the  engineer 
watched  the  proceedings  as  one  apart.  He  was 
again  in  the  service  of  the  government.  It  was 
decided  to  make  the  Captain  of  La  Justicia  the 
scape-goat.  His  was  the  ignorance  that  had 
wrecked  the  steamer,  his  carelessness  alone  had 
lost  to  the  government  their  best  vessel ;  and  the 
Captain,  securely  bound,  was  the  first  man 
taken  aboard  the  Augusto. 

Three  trips  sufficed  for  the  Augusto  to  take 
137 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

La  Justicia's  crew  back  to  El  Puerto,  and  La 
Justicia  was  deserted  at  her  last  moorings.  For 
months  small  coasting-craft,  like  birds  of  prey, 
hovered  around  her  and  were  tied  up  to  the 
iron  carcass  of  the  old  freighter.  Wrecking 
parties  were  fitted  out  in  El  Puerto,  and  fisher 
men  and  wharf  loafers  sailed  over  for  the  pick 
ings.  Blocks  and  tackle,  rigging,  masts,  and 
finer  furnishings,  were  the  rewards  of  the  first- 
comers.  Her  wooden  decks  were  ripped  up,  and 
bolts  were  unscrewed  with  infinite  labor.  Every 
junk-shop  in  ports  east  and  west  for  miles  had 
stock  from  the  old  Justicia.  Her  hull  became  a 
landmark  along  the  coast ;  she  showed  up  plain 
ly  against  the  low  shore  behind  her;  and  no 
matter  how  calm  the  sea,  there  were  always 
waves  to  break  in  white  spray  against  the  ever- 
tossing  bows  of  La  Justicia. 

The  engineer  spent  the  following  six  years 
in  checkered  wanderings,  until  one  day  he  found 
himself  on  the  beach  opposite  the  old  wreck. 
He  hired  a  fisherman's  canoe  and,  impelled  by 
idle  curiosity,  paddled  over  the  quiet  sea  tow 
ards  the  grim  old  carcass  that  stood  out  black 
against  the  clear  sky.  He  sought  the  wreck's 
lee  side  for  a  mooring. 

Every  now  and  then  the  spray  poured  down 
on  the  iron  deck  from  the  ceaselessly  breaking 

138 


THE  SCAPE-GOAT  OF  LA  JUSTICIA 

waves  at  her  bow.  Her  port  stern  was  well 
under  water,  and  great  masses  of  seaweed  floated 
in  and  out  with  the  green  waves  that  lifted 
through  her  gaping  bulwarks. 

The  engineer  found  an  empty  canoe  at  the 
most  avilable  mooring.  "  Some  fisherman/' 
said  he.  He  stepped  on  board,  and  the  blood- 
red  iron  crackled  and  fell  in  flakes  under  his 
feet. 

"  I  was  the  Captain  of  La  Justicia  on  that 
last  night,"  the  stranger  concluded. 

"  And  I  was  the  engineer,"  said  the  Ameri 
can. 

The  Captain  looked  his  surprise,  and  after 
a  moment's  pause,  he  continued :  "  And  I  have 
been  in  jail  six  years  for  that  night's  work, 
and  I  am  only  out  now  because  our  President 
is  finally  in  command.  It  was  between  you 
and  me  that  night,  and  you  won." 

"  How  so  ?"  asked  the  engineer. 

"  As  the  Augusto  approached  we  decided  to 
lay  the  blame  of  the  wreck  on  you — to  say  that 
you  had  disobeyed  orders,  and  lost  the  vessel 
to  revenge  yourself  on  the  government  for  their 
harsh  treatment,"  explained  the  Captain ;  "  but 
at  the  last  moment  we  realized  it  wouldn't  do. 
You  as  a  foreigner  had  no  interest  in  the  revolu- 

139 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

tion,  and  to  get  square  with  us  you  would  in 
form  the  government  of  our  desertion  that 
night.  So  I  took  the  blame  and  the  imprison 
ment.  But  now  I'm  to  be  Chief  Collector  of 
Customs  to  the  whole  republic." 


CAPTAIN    SAMPSON'S    QUEER    CARGO 
How  a  Tidal-wave  Helped  the  Rebels 

WHEN  the  owners  of  the  Flying  Squad,  of 
Boston,  United  States  of  America,  re 
quested  Captain  Sampson  to  take  a  large  con 
signment  of  rum  down  to  Aricco,  the  chief  city 
of  the  smallest  republic  in  South  America,  and 
then  load  up  with  mahogany  for  the  return 
journey,  he  responded,  gruffly: 

"  I  ain't  goin'  into  the  liquor  business,  an' 
I'll  be  blowed  if  I'll  take  any  hogsheads  of 
rum  on  the  Squad.  If  you  want  the  mahogany, 
I'll  go  an'  get  that;  but  you'll  have  to  get  an 
other  man  to  take  your  rum." 

Captain  Sampson  was  an  earnest  Methodist, 
and  his  conscience  smote  him  sharply  at  the 
mere  suggestion  of  carrying  New  England  rum 
to  the  natives;  but  after  his  energetic  protest 
he  walked  out  of  the  office  of  the  Boston  firm 
of  ship-owners  in  an  uneasy  state  of  mind.  It 

141 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

was  essential  that  he  should  make  a  living,  and 
if  he  gave  up  the  command  of  the  Squad  he 
would  be  a  Captain  without  a  ship,  which  in 
those  days  of  close  competition  meant  an  in 
definite  period  of  idleness. 

Consequently,  two  weeks  later,  when  the 
three  -  masted  schooner  was  loaded  with  the 
huge  hogsheads  of  rum  and  ready  to  sail,  Cap 
tain  Sampson  appeared  on  her  deck  to  com 
mand. 

"  I  hate  such  an  un-Christian  cargo,"  he 
muttered,  as  he  paced  the  forward  deck. 
"  There  ain't  nothin'  to  be  gained  in  takin'  such 
a  trip,  but  I  can't  desert  the  Squad  at  my  age. 
I  must  live  somehow,  an'  it  wouldn't  be  livin' 
on  land  or  on  any  other  ship." 

He  looked  up  proudly  at  the  tapering  masts 
of  the  schooner,  and  then  towards  the  graceful 
prow  which  had  cut  the  foam  of  many  a  sea 
under  his  management. 

"  She's  old  as  I  be,"  he  said,  "  but  she  don't 
show  it.  A  little  paint  brightens  her  up  smart 
ly,  but  new  clothes  don't  make  me  look  young 
again." 

When  the  schooner  left  port,  the  crew  had 
less  objection  to  the  cargo  than  Captain  Samp 
son;  but  the  latter  was  a  stern  disciplinarian 
at  sea,  and  in  his  regular  Sunday  services  on 

142 


CAPT.    SAMPSON'S    QUEER    CARGO 

shipboard  he  alluded  frequently  to  the  sin  of 
carrying  liquor  to  the  "  heathen." 

Ten  weeks  from  port  the  Squad  sighted  the 
headland  of  Cape  Aricco,  which,  as  one  might 
guess,  was  close  to  the  city  of  the  same  name. 
The  schooner  was  then  brought  close  up  in  the 
wind,  and  her  course  steered  for  the  lee  side  of 
the  cape,  where  a  small  bay  promised  a  good 
anchorage. 

Night  was  drawing  on  apace  when  the  Squad 
entered  the  bay.  There  were  no  signs  of  life 
or  human  habitation  on  the  coast.  The  city 
and  its  surrounding  suburban  population  were 
all  located  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  rocky, 
precipitous  headland. 

But  just  as  the  anchor  chains  of  the  schooner 
rattled  over  the  sides  and  tumbled  with  a  splash 
into  the  water  a  small  boat,  with  a  torn  mutton- 
leg  sail  fluttering  in  the  wind,  pushed  out  from 
the  shore.  As  the  queer  craft  approached,  it 
could  be  seen  that  only  one  man  was  aboard, 
and  he  was  a  tall,  dark,  sinuous  Ariccan. 

When  he  swung  himself  up  on  the  deck  of 
the  Squad  by  means  of  the  rope-ladder  to  help 
him,  he  coolly  inspected  the  ship  from  stem 
to  stern,  and  then  said  in  good  English: 

"  You've  had  a  good  voyage,  Captain.  "No 
ropes  or  spars  broken — nothing  lost." 

143 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  The  Flying  Squad  never  carries  broken 
spars  an'  riggin',"  answered  Captain  Sampson, 
promptly. 

The  stranger  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  dis 
missed  the  subject  with  that  questionable  action. 

"  But  your  cargo  of  rum  must  be  all  right, 
then,"  he  remarked,  without  removing  his  eyes 
from  the  rigging. 

Captain  Sampson  started  visibly  at  these 
words,  and  barely  controlled  his  voice  as  he 
blurted  out: 

"  Who  said  we  had  rum  on  board  ?" 

"  Nobody,"  the  stranger  replied,  again  shrug 
ging  his  shoulders.  "  But  I  judge  you  have, 
Captain.  Haven't  you  ?" 

Captain  Sampson  was  getting  red  in  the  face, 
and  his  answer  indicated  the  state  of  his  feel 
ings. 

"  It's  nobody's  business  what  I  have  on  board, 
an'  I  don't  propose  to  enlighten  anybody." 

A  sudden  flash  of  anger  leaped  into  the 
stranger's  face,  but  instantly  it  disappeared. 

"  It's  nobody's  business,  Captain,  except  the 
owners  of  this  ship — and  mine.  Your  cargo 
is  consigned  to  me — to  me — Don  Sagua  Que- 
sada,  of  Aricco.  Am  I  not  right?" 

Captain   Sampson  was  puzzled.     He  knew 

his  orders  were  to  anchor  outside  the  cape  and 
144 


CAPT.   SAMPSON'S    QUEER    CARGO 

to  wait  for  the  appearance  of  Don  Sagua,  who 
would  give  him  orders  where  to  land  his  cargo. 
The  faintest  suspicion  of  fraud  entered  his 
mind,  but  when  the  stranger  presented  indis 
putable  credentials  that  he  was  the  man  he 
pretended  to  be  his  mind  grew  easier. 

"  Well,  where  do  you  want  the  blamed  rum 
discharged  ?"  he  asked.  "  The  sooner  I  get  rid 
of  it  the  better  I'll  feel,  for  it's  an  un-Christian 
cargo  at  the  best." 

The  swarthy  Ariccan  hesitated  a  moment  and 
closely  scanned  the  wooded  shore. 

"  I  s'pose  they  won't  let  me  land  up  at  the 
city  ?"  suggested  the  Captain,  not  without  signs 
of  curiosity  in  his  voice  and  manner,  for  he 
was  not  sure  but  he  was  a  smuggler  in  trying 
to  run  a  cargo  of  rum  into  Aricco. 

"  No,  they  might  not — at  least,  until  you  paid 
a  heavy  duty  on  it,"  Don  Quesada  replied,  turn 
ing  quickly  towards  the  Captain. 

"  Then  I'll  be  blowed  if  I'll  keep  the  stuff  on 
board  another  day !"  blurted  out  Captain  Samp 
son.  "  I  ain't  a  smuggler,  an'  I  won't  have 
nothin'  to  do  with  smuggled  goods." 

Don  Quesada  eyed  him  a  moment  in  silence, 
and  then  said : 

"  No,  it  wouldn't  be  safe  to  go  into  Aricco. 

But  you  can  unload  here.    In  twenty-four  hours 
145 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

I  will  have  men  and  boats  to  unload  your  cargo. 
I  have  some  flat-bottom  boats  in  the  cove  now 
which  will  serve  our  purpose." 

Half  an  hour  later  Don  Quesada  left  the 
Squad  in  his  small  craft,  and  just  as  darkness 
settled  over  the  water  they  saw  him  disappear 
in  the  gloom  of  the  woods. 

"  A  queer  way  to  do  business,"  reflected  Cap 
tain  Sampson.  "  I'd  never  ship  with  such  a 
cargo  again  for  nobody.  I  knew  something  was 
wrong  about  it.  The  company  wanted  me  to 
run  head  foremost  into  the  smuggling  business, 
an?  nothin'  but  my  suspicions  saved  me.  Even 
that  Don  wouldn't  tell  me  until  I  guessed  it." 

Then,  thinking  of  what  he  would  say  to  the 
owners  of  the  Squad  when  he  returned  to  Bos 
ton,  he  walked  up  and  down  the  port  side  of  the 
schooner  with  angry  strides. 

All  the  next  day  the  Flying  Squad  swung  at 
her  anchor  in  the  quiet  cove.  There  was  not  a 
sign  of  life  in  the  neighborhood.  A  party  of 
sailors  rowed  ashore  to  secure  some  fresh  water, 
and  they  reported  the  place  lonely  and  deserted. 

On  the  following  morning  a  small  steamer 
appeared  off  the  cape,  moving  rapidly  towards 
them.  She  was  flying  the  flag  of  the  Ariccan 
republic,  and  as  she  drew  nearer,  Captain  Samp 
son  said,  truthfully: 

146 


CAPT.    SAMPSON'S    QUEER    CARGO 

"  She's  an  armed  cruiser.  I  wonder  what 
she  wants  in  this  cove  ?" 

In  a  short  time  it  was  clear  to  the  crew  of  the 
Squad  that  the  cruiser  was  heading  for  them, 
and  that  her  guns  were  trained  so  as  to  blow 
the  schooner  out  of  the  water  if  she  attempted 
to  run. 

"  What's  up,  anyway  ?"  fumed  Captain 
Sampson.  "  I  guess  I'm  flying  the  American 
flag,  an'  I  haven't  smuggled  anything  into  their 
little  country  yet." 

The  cruiser  came  up  close  to  the  Squad,, 
and  then  an  officer  and  crew  were  lowered  in 
a  small  cutter.  When  they  reached  the 
side  of  the  Squad,  Don  Quesada,  dressed 
in  the  uniform  of  a  second  officer,  stepped 
on  board  and,  in  a  sharp,  brusque  voice, 
said: 

"  Captain,  you  are  my  prisoner." 

"  Not  until  I  know  why !"  shouted  Captain 
Sampson.  "  I'm  protected  by  the  American 
flag,  an'  the  man  who  touches  that  will  have  a 
big  debt  to  pay." 

"  I  don't  want  to  touch  your  flag.  We  want 
you  and  your  cargo.  You're  guilty  of  carry 
ing  arms  and  ammunition  to  the  insurgents, 
and  your  vessel  is  hereby  condemned  as  a  fili 
buster." 

ii  147 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  Sir,  the  man  who  calls  me  an'  my  boat 
filibusters  won't  live  to  see — " 

"  Gently,  gently,  Captain,  or  I  might  give 
the  word  to  have  you  blown  out  of  the  water," 
interposed  the  Don. 

Captain  Sampson  looked  at  the  frowning 
guns,  and  then  asked: 

"  Where  are  you  going  to  take  us  ?" 

"  To  Aricco." 

"  Then  I'll  appeal  to  the  American  consul 
there,  an'  we'll  see  if  you  can  outrage  an  Ameri 
can  citizen  in  this  way.    You'll  have  an  Ameri 
can  man-of-war  here  in  a  month  to  blow  your 
city  to  pieces." 

Don  Quesada  merely  laughed. 

Another  cutter  left  the  side  of  the  cruiser, 
carrying  with  it  the  end  of  a  long  hemp  cable. 
This  was  fastened  to  the  bow  of  the  Squad,,  and 
then  with  a  shrill  whistle  the  cruiser  started 
forward  with  her  prize. 

They  ran  far  out  to  sea  first  to  avoid  the 
shoals  of  the  cape,  the  little  cruiser  puffing  away 
frantically  to  make  decent  headway  with  her 
big  load.  Don  Quesada,  who  was  virtually 
in  charge  of  the  schooner,  seated  himself  for 
ward  and  seemed  lost  in  thought.  Captain 
Sampson  leaned  against  the  cabin  and  vainly 
tried  to  fathom  the  mystery.  He  was  satisfied 
148 


CAPT.   SAMPSON'S    QUEER    CARGO 

now  that  Don  Quesada  was  a  government  spy, 
but  why  suspicion  had  been  attached  to  his 
vessel  he  could  not  understand. 

When  just  abreast  of  the  promontory  the 
heavens  became  overcast  with  fleecy  clouds,  and, 
knowing  the  nature  of  the  climatic  changes  in 
that  latitude,  Captain  Sampson  surveyed  the 
threatening  sky  with  some  alarm.  Don  Que 
sada  was  also  interested  in  the  problem,  and  he 
walked  uneasily  from  side  to  side  of  the 
schooner. 

"  I  don't  like  the  looks  of  the  weather,  Cap 
tain,"  he  said.  "  Do  you  know  anything  about 
the  weather  signs  of  this  region  ?" 

"  I  know  enough  about  'em  to  predict  that 
we're  goin'  to  have  a  hurricane  pretty  soon," 
Captain  Sampson  replied,  sharply,  "  an'  I'd 
like  to  get  ashore  before  it  comes." 

The  wind  was  already  blowing  briskly  from 
the  sea.  The  cruiser,  which  had  been  making 
desperate  efforts  to  reach  the  harbor,  suddenly 
veered  about  and  headed  for  the  sea. 

"  She's  going  to  run  out  to  meet  the  storm," 
Don  Quesada  said. 

"  Yes,  an'  we'll  break  loose  an'  be  driven 
ashore,"  answered  the  Captain. 

The  wind-storm  increased  so  rapidly  that  in 
ten  minutes  a  heavy  sea  was  boiling  around  the 

149 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

prow  of  the  schooner.  The  stout  rope  cable 
grew  so  taut  that  it  threatened  to  part,  and,  as 
the  cruiser  struggled  to  reach  the  open  sea  be 
fore  the  hurricane  was  upon  her,  the  heavy  line 
trembled  and  groaned  under  the  strain  imposed 
upon  it. 

Suddenly  the  storm  rushed  down  upon  the 
harbor  and  the  two  ill-fated  vessels  with  all  the 
violence  of  a  tropical  hurricane.  The  heavens 
became  overcast  and  darkness  seemed  to  set 
tle  over  the  sea.  In  the  midst  of  the  storm  the 
cruiser  was  shut  out  from  view. 

On  board  the  Flying  Squad  confusion  reign 
ed.  Several  of  the  crew  and  sailors  from  the 
cruiser  were  washed  overboard  by  the  first 
wave  that  swept  across  the  decks.  Don  Que- 
sada  and  Captain  Sampson  clung  to  whatever 
stationary  object  they  could  find. 

The  falling  rigging  threatened  to  smash  the 
deck  and  cabins  to  splinters,  but  the  wind  and 
waves  together  managed  to  carry  the  broken 
spars  and  debris  overboard,  so  that  the  careening 
vessel  could  right  herself  and  face  the  storm. 
So  long  as  the  cable  held,  the  Squad  had  one 
good  chance  in  five  of  outriding  the  storm. 

But  no  one  expected  the  cable  to  hold,  and 
when  it  suddenly  parted  Don  Quesada  merely 
remarked : 

150 


CAPT.  SAMPSON'S  QUEER  CARGO 

"  There  she  goes !" 

"  Yes ;  an'  here  we  go,"  replied  Captain 
Sampson,  shouting  even  above  the  roar  of  the 
storm. 

His  remark  was  made  apparent  a  moment 
later  when  the  schooner  veered  around  and  near 
ly  capsized  in  the  act.  Her  bow  swung  about 
and  plunged  deep  beneath  the  waves.  Then 
suddenly  she  became  overwhelmed  by  a  monster 
wave,  but  after  a  momentary  struggle  she 
seemed  to  rise  higher  and  higher  into  the  air. 
The  sensation  was  peculiar,  and  Captain  Samp 
son  wondered  at  it. 

But  Don  Quesada  knew  more  of  the  peculiar 
phenomena  characteristic  of  the  southern  tropi 
cal  waters.  During  a  lull  in  the  terrible  upward 
motion  he  shouted,  aloud : 

"A  tidal-wave!" 

This  was,  in  reality,  the  cause  of  the  up 
ward  and  onward  impetus  suddenly  imparted 
to  the  Flying  Squad.  Through  the  intense 
darkness  of  the  storm  the  schooner  was  rush 
ing  rapidly  on  the  very  crest  of  a  towering  tidal- 
wave  towards  its  doom.  Every  man  held  his 
breath.  It  was  a  moment  of  intense  mental 
strain. 

Then  out  of  the  darkness,  across  the  stern  of 
the  ship  rose  a  great  black  object.  It  towered 

151 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

above  them  like  an  ill-fated  monster  of  the  sea. 
Then  it  swept  by  them  amid  the  roar  and  suction 
of  the  terrible  waters.  It  was  the  dark  hull  of 
the  cruiser  caught  in  the  powerful  grasp  of  the 
resistless  tidal-wave. 

Then  followed  a  period  of  confusion  that 
seemed  like  a  blank  to  the  crew  and  officers  of 
the  Squad. 

Then  there  was  a  shock  that  shook  the  very 
foundations  of  the  earth.  Timbers  and  planks 
were  crushed  and  splintered,  and  the  Flying 
Squad  was  a  hopeless  wreck. 

When  the  tidal  wave  retired,  and  the  storm 
subsided  sufficiently  to  make  a  survey  of  the 
situation,  Captain  Sampson  found  his  beloved 
schooner  wrecked  in  the  very  centre  of  a  tropical 
forest.  A  dozen  yards  away  he  could  see  what 
looked  like  a  river,  and  floating  quietly  on  it 
was  the  cruiser.  But  her  decks  were  deserted 
and  she  looked  as  forlorn  and  helpless  as  the 
Squad. 

Don  Quesada,  who  had  been  roughly  handled 
by  the  storm,  suddenly  stood  up  and  gazed  in 
tently  at  the  queer  situation  of  the  two  boats. 
Then  he  broke  forth  into  a  laugh. 

*'  This  is  no  time  to  laugh,"  Captain  Samp 
son  said,  roughly.  "  You've  been  the  means  of 

makin'  me  all  this  trouble,  an'  I  won't  have 
152 


CAPT.  SAMPSON'S  QUEER  CARGO 

you  make  light  of  it.  You're  a  spy  an'  a  traitor, 
an'  I'll  hold  you  responsible  for  the  loss  of  my 
ship." 

"  How  so,  Captain  ?  I  didn't  bring  the  storm, 
and  tidal-wave." 

"  No,  but  you  betrayed  me  an  took  me  out 
to  get  caught  in  it.  Now  your  men  are  dead 
an'  I  have  the  upper  hand.  You're  my 
prisoner." 

The  Don  raised  his  hand  in  protest. 

"  Listen,  Captain;  you  don't  understand. 
Let  me  explain." 

Again  he  laughed  heartily,  and  only  recov 
ered  himself  when  he  saw  the  threatening  look 
spread  over  Captain  Sampson's  face. 

"  I  see  you're  not  in  the  secret,"  he  began 
again.  "  Let  me  explain,  Captain." 

"  Well,  go  on  if  you  have  anything  to  ex 
plain." 

The  Don  seated  himself  on  the  stump  of  the 
broken  mainmast  and  began : 

"  The  company  should  have  trusted  you 
more,  Captain.  I  see  you  can  be  trusted.  Those 
hogsheads  of  rum,  Captain — did  you  think  we 
wanted  them  down  here?  No,  no;  but  we  did 
want  arms  and  ammunition.  We  had  a  r^volu- 
tion  here,  but  we  had  no  chance  without  arms. 
So  we  sent  to  your  country  for  them.  They 
153 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

agreed  to  send  them  down  in  hogsheads,  Cap 
tain,  invoiced  as  rum." 

Captain  Sampson  stared  incredulously  at  the 
speaker. 

"  Yes,  Captain,  your  hogsheads  are  all  full 
of  small  -  arms — rifles,  swords,  bayonets,  car 
tridges,  and  such  things.  They  were  consigned 
to  me.  I  was  to  have  them  unloaded,  and  then 
I  would  leave  my  position  in  the  navy  to  join 
the  revolutionists.  I  knew  we  would  succeed 
then. 

"  But  they  got  wind  of  it  somehow,  and  the 
cruiser  yonder  was  sent  down  to  capture  you. 
I  was  second  officer  on  it  and  I  had  the  pleasure 
of  arresting  you.  There  was  no  way  out  of  it. 
It  hurt  me  as  much  as  it  did  you.  But — you 
can't  always  tell.  See  now  what  has  happened 
— your  boat  wrecked  and  the  cruiser  in  the 
river  above  the  forts.  What  a  stroke  of 
luck!" 

"  I  don't  see  much  luck  in  that,"  muttered 
the  Captain.  "  Here's  the  Squad  wrecked,  an' 
somebody's  got  to  pay  for  her." 

"  You  join  me,  Captain,  and  I'll  pay  for  her 
when  we  overturn  the  government,"  Don  Que- 
sada  said,  blandly.  "  Everything  is  working 
into  my  hands.  Even  the  elements  are  aiding 


154 


CAPT.  SAMPSON'S  QUEER  CARGO 

He  glanced  at  the  cruiser  still  floating  in  the 
river,  and  then  continued : 

"  I'll  explain  my  plans,  Captain.  All  the 
country  back  of  us  is  in  revolt — all  except  the 
city  of  Aricco.  That's  protected  from  the  sea 
by  forts,  but  it  has  no  protection  from  heavy 
guns  on  this  side.  This  river  runs  right  up  to 
the  city.  Now  we  have  the  only  cruiser  the  gov 
ernment  owns  in  our  possession,  and  it  is  in 
the  river  this  side  of  the  forts.  That  tidal-wave 
was  a  godsend,  Captain,  wasn't  it?" 

"  I  don't  quite  see  it  in  that  light  yet,"  Cap 
tain  Sampson  replied,  somewhat  mollified,  but 
still  dubious. 

"  Well,  you  will  comprehend  soon  what  good 
luck  has  befallen  us.  I  need  a  good  captain, 
and  when  we  capture  Aricco  I'll  make  you  an 
officer  in  the  navy  with  a  good  salary." 

"  But  the  Squad,  she's  wrecked  for  good, 
she's  broken  all  to  pieces,"  ruefully  remarked 
the  Captain,  surveying  painfully  his  pet  ship. 

"  Yes ;  and  if  she  wasn't  wrecked  she  would 
be  worthless,"  said  Don  Quesada.  "  No  man 
could  get  her  out  of  this  forest." 

Then  remembering  his  cargo,  Captain  Samp 
son  started  for  the  hold,  remarking: 

"  I  knew  that  rum  business  would  bring  me 
bad  luck,  but  I  must  have  a  look  at  it.  If  them 
155 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

hogsheads  are  full  of  fire-arms  I'm  a  filibuster 
sure  enough." 

In  the  hold  of  his  wrecked  schooner  a  dozen 
hogsheads  were  spilling  their  contents  around, 
and  one  glance  at  the  motley  array  satisfied  the 
old  Captain  that  Don  Quesada  had  told  the 
truth.  When  he  returned  to  the  deck  he  said, 
quietly : 

"  I'd  just  as  lief  be  a  revolutionist  as  a  fili 
buster,  an'  I'm  that,  so  you  can  count  on  me  to 
help  in  this  war.  If  you  want  to  get  that  cruiser 
under  way,  me  an'  my  men  will  help  you." 

Half  an  hour  later  the  surviving  members  of 
the  crew  were  aboard  the  disabled  cruiser,  and 
when  the  small-arms  were  transferred  from  the 
hogsheads  in  the  hold  of  the  Squad  to  her  deck 
Don  Quesada  felt  that  he  held  the  winning 
trump.  They  worked  her  up  stream  by  means 
of  sails,  where  the  revolutionist  army  greeted 
them  with  open  arms. 

A  week  later  the  city  of  Aricco  fell  into  the 
hands  of  the  rebels,  and  the  government  changed 
leaders  the  third  time  in  that  year ;  but  in  none 
of  the  previous  revolutions  did  such  a  queer 
chain  of  circumstances  help  the  insurgents  as 
when  Don  Quesada  and  Captain  Sampson  made 
their  flank  attack  upon  the  fortified  city  with 

the  government's  own  cruiser. 
156 


XI 

A  WARM   CORNER   IN   SOOLOO 
Raiding  Oriental  Pirates 

"HTHEKE,  Bill,  she's  vanished!"  was  my  ex- 
1  clamation  as  we  rounded  the  bluff  head 
land  at  last,  and  I  looked  vainly  for  a  sign 
of  the  vessel  we  had  been  chasing  since  sun 
down  the  night  before. 

"  Vanished  be  blowed !"  was  Bill's  prompt 
rejoinder,  "  a-beggin'  of  yer  pardon,  sir,  for 
makin'  so  free.  She's  on'y  took  onder  the  lee 
o*  that  theer  mess  of  islands,  an',  as  like  as  not, 
come  to  an  anchor,  bein'  as  she's  on'y  a  pirate — 
and  black  at  that — an'  no  better  weren't  to  be 
looked  for  nohow." 

I  was  the  youngest  midshipman  on  board  the 
Sivordfisli,  and  Bill  was  acting  quartermaster 
aboard,  and  was  besides  our  chief  authority  on 
the  locality,  having  been  shipped  on  one  vessel 
after  another  selected  for  special  service  against 

the  pirates  who  find  shelter  among  the  islands 
157 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

between  Borneo  and  the  Philippine  group.  It 
needed  little  experience  to  convince  one  that 
Bill's  was  the  only  likely  explanation  of  the 
disappearance  of  the  craft  we  had  been  doing 
our  best  to  overhaul,  without  much  success,  for 
so  many  hours,  and  the  most  interesting  ques 
tion  was  what  steps  could  now  be  taken  to  find 
out  her  harbor  of  refuge  and  capture  her.  At 
this  point  I  was  left  to  my  own  conjectures, 
however,  for  Bill  was  summoned  to  give  the 
Captain  and  First  Lieutenant  the  benefit  of  his 
local  knowledge  on  the  poop-deck  of  the  brig. 

It  was  a  glorious  morning,  and  as  we  had  just 
come  upon  the  station  the  scene  had  all  the 
delight  of  novelty  for  me.  We  had  rounded  the 
sharp  headland  which  marked  the  southern 
point  of  one  of  the  larger  islands  of  the  Sooloo 
Archipelago,  and  had  opened  a  little  archi 
pelago  of  smaller  islands  that  clustered  to  lee 
ward,  glittering  in  all  the  wealth  of  vegetation 
and  color  which  is  nowhere  to  be  found  in  such 
profusion  as  in  the  island  zone  of  the  Eastern 
seas.  The  islands  were  evidently  volcanic  in 
origin,  and  their  broken  peaks  and  sharply  torn 
cliffs  and  ravines  were  draped — I  might  almost 
say  loaded — with  a  covering  of  trees  and  shrubs 
and  creepers  that  glistened  and  sparkled  un 
der  the  level  sunlight.  The  breeze  was  so  light, 

158 


A   WARM   CORNER  IN   SOOLOO 

now  that  we  had  got  under  the  lee  of  the  larger 
island,  that  it  did  no  more  than  ripple  the 
glassy  surface  of  the  water,  and,  as  we  forged 
slowly  ahead,  every  sail  and  spar  and  rope  in 
our  rigging  seemed  to  sleep  on  the  water  along 
side.  Beyond  and  helow  it,  too,  one  seemed 
to  be  able  to  look  down  and  down  through  the 
crystal  water  to  an  unknown  depth,  and'  there 
to  see  a  thousand  strange  forms  of  colored 
corals  growing  in  forests  at  the  bottom,  among 
which  brightly  tinted  fishes  swam  in  and  out, 
and  sparkling  jellyfish  contracted  and  expanded 
with  a  dozen  rainbow  colors.  When  I  looked 
up  again  Bill  was  standing  looking  at  me,  with 
a  half-smile  on  his  broad  face. 

"  Well,  Bill,"  I  exclaimed,  "  do  you  think 
we'll  be  able  to  find  her  ?" 

Bill  laughed.  "  Well,  sir,  I  ain't  a-sayin'  as 
the  Cap'n  have  exac'ly  told  me  wot  he's  a-goin' 
to  do,  but  I  shouldn't  be  noways  astonished  if 
he  was  to  order  out  the  boats ;  an'  if  so  be  as 
he  do,  well  find  her  right  enough.  Though 
mind  ye,  sir,"  he  added,  "  I  ain't  a-sayin'  as 
it  '11  be  a  pleasure  trip,  neither." 

"  Oh,"  I  said,  delighted  with  the  prospect, 
"  of  course  they'll  fight,  won't  they  ?" 

"  Well,  sir,  in  course,  they're  on'y  niggers, 
arter  all,  an'  most  o'  them  Borneo  niggers  at 

159 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

that,  wi'  a  sprinklin'  o'  Portuguese  an'  trash 
o'  that  sort  a-thrown  in ;  but  get  them  in  a  cor 
ner,  as  ye  most  times  do  among  them  islands, 
and  they'll  fight — if  I  ain't  mistook." 

Half  an  hour  later  I  learned  that  Bill's  ex 
pectation  was  about  to  be  realized,  as  the  word 
was  passed  round  that  the  boats  were  to  be 
ordered  out  as  soon  as  the  men  had  had  break 
fast.  It  was  all  excitement  in  the  midship 
men's  berth,  and  the  discussion  grew  warm  as 
to  which  of  us  should  have  the  good-fortune  to 
be  included  in  one  or  other  of  the  boats,  every 
one  urging  his  own  peculiar  claims  to  the  dis 
tinction.  I  was  no  doubt  as  positive  as  the 
others,  though  in  my  heart  I  had  only  a  very 
slight  hope  that,  as  the  junior  of  the  party,  a 
place  would  be  found  for  me.  I  had  all  but 
given  up  hopes,  indeed,  when  the  crews  had 
been  told  off  to  the  three  boats,  and  the  Captain 
paused  for  an  instant  before  he  named  the 
midshipman  who  was  to  go  in  the  last.  Pos 
sibly  an  imploring  look  which  I  know  I  cast  at 
him  had  something  to  do  with  it,  for  he  hesi 
tated. 

"  Can  any  of  you  young  gentlemen  swim 
well  ?"  he  asked,  suddenly. 

I  gasped,  for  I  knew  that  of  us  four  I  was 
the  only  one  who  could  claim  to  swim  even 

160 


A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

decently  well.  The  faces  of  the  others  no  doubt 
told  the  tale,  for  he  continued,  with  a  laugh : 

"  I  thought  as  much,  and  it  may  be  a  good 
lesson.  Besides,  there  may  be  swimming  to  do 
for  some  of  you  before  you  get  back.  You  can 
go,  Maxwell,"  he  added,  with  a  nod  to  me,  which 
I  wasn't  slow  to  obey,  and  in  a  second  or  two 
more  I  was  seated  in  the  stern-sheets  beside  Mr. 
Bates  the  master. 

I  should  have  preferred  either  of  the  other 
boats,  as  the  master  was  not  a  popular  officer, 
but  I  was  too  much  delighted  at  my  good-fort 
une  in  forming  one  of  the  expedition  at  all 
to  care  very  much  under  which  command  I 
sailed.  In  another  moment  the  three  boats 
were  pulling  for  the  nearest  of  the  islands. 
For  a  time  they  kept  company,  and  as  we  coast 
ed  along,  looking  for  a  passage  suitable  for 
a  vessel  as  big  as  the  schooner  we  had  been 
chasing,  Mr.  Parker,  who  was  in  the  largest 
boat,  repeatedly  consulted  Bill,  who  was  acting 
as  lookout-man  in  the  bow  of  ours,  and  it  was 
easy  to  see  that  Mr.  Bates  didn't  like  it,  though, 
of  course,  he  couldn't  say  anything.  We  had 
passed  several  channels  before  we  met  with 
any  that  seemed  worth  following  up,  but  at  last 
we  came  to  one  that  Bill  thought  a  likely  one. 
The  boats  were  brought  to,  and  Mr.  Parker 
161 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

held  a  consultation  with  the  other  officers.  Our 
Third  Lieutenant  was  inclined  to  agree  with 
Bill  that  it  would  be  worth  while  to  explore  the 
channel,  but  Mr.  Parker  himself  was  doubtful, 
and  Mr.  Bates  was  dead  against  it,  chiefly — at 
least,  so  I  thought — because  Bill  had  recom 
mended  it.  At  last  Mr.  Parker  decided  to  sepa 
rate  the  boats,  and  try  several  channels  at  the 
same  time.  He  gave  orders  that  our  boat  should 
row  cautiously  through  this  one,  while  he  would 
take  the  next,  and  the  Third  Lieutenant  the 
third,  and  whichever  boat  first  discovered  the 
pirates  was  to  send  up  a  rocket  to  bring  the 
others  to  its  assistance  before  attempting  any 
attack.  I  could  see  that  Bill  approved  of  the 
plan,  but  it  was  evident  from  Mr.  Bates's  face 
that  he  was  annoyed  at  being  selected  to  explore 
the  very  channel  he  had  been  so  positive  could 
n't  be  the  one  chosen  by  the  schooner  we  were 
looking  for.  Of  course  there  was  no  help  for  it, 
however,  and  after  one  more  caution  from  Mr. 
Parker  the  boats  separated. 

The  men  gave  way  with  a  will  as  we  turned 
her  head  into  the  channel,  and  our  boat  shot 
in  between  two  precipitous  islands  that  seemed 
to  rise  like  a  wall  on  each  side,  every  nook  and 
ledge  of  which  was  covered  with  plants  and 
shrubs,  while  creeping-plants  ran  over  the  face 
162 


A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

of  the  rocks  and  hung  in  long  festoons  and 
streamers  to  the  water's  edge.  The  channel  was 
deep,  though  we  could  see  the  bottom  as  clearly 
as  if  it  had  been  less  than  a  fathom,  but  as  we 
went  on  I  began  to  fancy  Bill  must  have  been 
wrong,  for  it  didn't  seem  possible  that  a  vessel 
of  any  size  could  have  come  up  so  narrow  a 
passage.  I  could  see  that  the  master  thought 
so,  too,  for  he  looked  as  black  as  thunder  when 
ever  he  glanced  at  Bill  sitting  up  in  the  bows 
keeping  a  lookout.  Our  oars  were  muffled,  and 
we  had  been  careful  to  obey  orders  by  keeping 
as  quiet  as  possible,  but  suddenly  Mr.  Bates  be 
gan  to  whistle,  as  if  to  show  that  he  knew  there 
was  no  reason  for  caution  any  longer.  I  could 
see  the  men  look  at  him,  and  Bill  half  turned 
his  head,  but  of  course  nobody  spoke. 

We  had  been  rowing  up  the  channel  for 
perhaps  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  we  had  just 
turned  into  a  straighter  reach  of  the  passage, 
when  Bill  turned  round  quickly. 

Mr.  Bates  involuntarily  stopped  whist 
ling. 

"  I  ain't  sure  but  wot  I  heerd  something,  sir," 
Bill  said,  in  a  cautious  tone. 

"  Where  away  ?"  asked  the  master,  in  a  care 
less  tone  that  was  loud  enough  to  be  heard  some 

distance. 

163 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  It  seemed  to  come  from  the  bluff  on  the 
right  bow,  sir." 

Mr.  Bates  threw  a  quick  glance  along  the 
wall  of  rock  that  rose  nearly  a  hundred  feet 
overhead,  then  he  broke  into  a  short  scornful 
laugh. 

"  You  must  have  dreamed  it,  Bill.  Keep 
your  eyes  open,  my  man,  for  I  don't  reckon 
much  on  your  ears." 

One  or  two  of  the  sailors  laughed. 

"  Give  way,  men,"  he  added.  "  The  sooner 
we  get  out  o'  this  hole,  the  better  our  chance 
'11  be  of  dropping  across  the  schooner." 

The  men  lay  to  their  oars,  and  in  spite  of 
the  muffling  the  regular  throb  of  the  ten  oars 
we  were  pulling  came  back  in  an  echo  from  the 
cliffs  on  each  side.  We  were  nearing  the  upper 
end  of  the  channel,  and  it  seemed  as  if  the 
cliff  was  closing  in  upon  it  so  much  that  I  be 
gan  to  think  it  ended  there,  and  didn't  form  a 
real  channel  between  the  islands  after  all.  I 
could  see  that  the  same  idea  had  occurred  to 
Mr.  Bates,  for  he  half  rose  and  looked  anxious 
ly  ahead. 

At  that  moment  I  saw  Bill  suddenly  turn 
round  and  hold  up  his  hand. 

"  Hold  hard,  sir,  for  Heaven's  sake !"  he  ex 
claimed.  Then,  as  the  master  didn't  seem  to 
164 


A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

act  on  his  warning,  he  added,  impressively: 
"  Avast,  men !  Avast,  for  yer  lives !" 

The  men  instinctively  stopped,  but  Mr. 
Bates's  face  flushed  crimson  as  he  shouted : 

"  Confound  ye,  give  way,  men !  You  take 
your  orders  from  me!" 

The  oars  dipped  with  a  fierce  stroke  into  the 
water,  and  the  next  instant  the  boat  shot  into 
what  for  the  moment  looked  like  open  water. 
The  cliff  on  the  right  had  ended  suddenly  and 
opened  into  a  sort  of  lagoon,  partly  alongside 
of  the  channel  and  partly  running  in  behind 
the  cliff,  and  there,  lying  at  anchor  just  behind 
the  point,  was  the  schooner  we  were  in  chase  of. 
It  was  too  late  to  go  back,  and,  although  the 
channel  extended  a  little  way  beyond  where  we 
were,  it  looked  as  if  it  ended  there.  I  could 
see  the  flush  fade  suddenly  from  Mr.  Bates's 
face,  and  his  lips  close  tightly,  as  if  he  had 
made  up  his  mind ;  then  with  a  sudden  motion 
of  the  rudder  he  brought  her  head  around,  ex 
claiming  :  "  Ship  your  oars,  men,  and  be  ready 
to  board  her !" 

It  was  too  sudden  for  thinking.  With  the 
promptitude  that  comes  of  discipline  the  men's 
oars  were  taken  on  board  in  a  second  or  two,  and 
yet  almost  before  they  lay  on  the  thwarts  we 
were  alongside.  I  hadn't  had  time  to  think 
165 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

what  it  meant  for  us,  but  I  had  been  able  to 
see  that  the  deck  of  the  long  low  craft  was 
thronged  with  men  in  such  numbers  as  made 
our  handful  look  few  indeed.  Just  as  the 
thought  flashed  through  my  mind  our  bows 
touched  and  scraped  along  the  schooner's  side. 
Next  moment  Mr.  Bates,  who  had  sprung  to 
his  feet  and  drawn  his  cutlass,  shouted :  "  Now, 
my  lads,  follow  me/7  and,  leaping  on  the  stern- 
sheets,  made  a  spring  at  the  low  bulwark  that 
wasn't  higher  than  his  breast  as  he  stood.  A 
scattered  but  pretty  heavy  volley  was  poured 
at  the  same  moment  into  the  boat,  and  about 
half  a  dozen  of  our  men  fell.  One  of  them 
fell  across  my  legs,  just  as  I  was  about  to  follow 
Mr.  Bates,  and  knocked  me  into  the  bottom  of 
the  boat.  He  was  a  heavy  man,  and  it  took  me 
a  minute  to  get  free  and  spring  to  my  feet 
again.  When  I  did  so  my  first  instinct  was  to 
glance  over  the  boat.  There  was  only  one  man 
sitting  up  on  board  of  her,  and  that  was  Bill. 
%  At  the  moment  I  caught  sight  of  him  he  was 
seated  on  a  thwart,  with  the  rocket-tube  propped 
up  between  his  knees,  while  he  was  deliberately 
striking  a  match.  Next  moment  he  had  lit  the 
fuse,  and  in  another  second  or  so  the  rocket 
soared  with  a  hiss  into  the  air.  At  the  same 

moment  Bill  picked  up  his  cutlass,  which  lay 
166 


A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

on  the  thwart  beside  him,  and  with  a  wild 
shout,  "  Kow  for  them  bloomin'  pirates!" 
sprang  at  a  bound  almost  over  the  bulwark 
beside  him.  I  had  done  the  same  at  the  other 
end  of  the  boat  almost  at  the  same  moment, 
and  both  Bill  and  I  reached  the  schooner's  deck 
together. 

I  staggered  and  nearly  fell  over  a  man  who 
lay  close  to  the  bulwark,  and  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  Bill  I  suppose  it  would  have  been  the  last 
of  me.  The  pirates  were  swarming  round  us, 
and  were  now  driving  the  handful  of  our  boat's 
crew  step  by  step  before  them.  Bill  had  taken 
them  on  the  flank,  and  for  a  moment  he  stag 
gered  them.  I  don't  know  that  he  was  a  great 
swordsman,  but  he  knew  how  to  use  his  weapon, 
and  his  unusual  strength  and  headlong  energy 
gave  him  a  tremendous  advantage  over  the 
crowd  of  miscellaneous  blacks  who  seemed  to 
make  up  the  pirate  crew.  Few  of  them  were 
even  up  to  the  middle  height  as  we  reckon  it, 
and  only  here  and  there  had  any  appearance 
of  much  strength.  What  they  wanted  in 
strength  and  size,  however,  they  made  up  for 
in  ferocity,  and  a  more  brutal  and  ferocious- 
looking  mass  of  faces  it  would,  I  suppose,  have 
been  impossible  to  find  anywhere. 

I  was  barely  sixteen,  and  it  was  my  first 
167 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

fight,  so  it  isn't  wonderful  that  my  memory 
of  details  is  confused.  I  know  that  when  I 
stumbled  it  was  Bill's  cutlass  that  warded  of? 
a  blow  aimed  at  me  by  an  all  but  naked  and 
nearly  black  ruffian,  who  fell  backwards  with 
a  fearful  cut  across  his  face.  Then  I  recov 
ered  myself  and  did  my  best;  but,  after  all, 
I  can  remember  very  little  about  it.  It  was  all 
a  confusion  of  yells  and  curses;  blows  from 
gunstocks  and  flashes  from  cutlasses;  a  chang 
ing  medley  of  fierce  wild  faces  and  glittering- 
eyes  that  seemed  to  move  and  flicker  around 
like  the  changing  figures  in  the  kaleidoscope. 
We  had  fallen  back  upon  the  rest  of  our  party, 
but  I  did  not  dare  to  turn  my  eyes  to  see  who 
were  left,  though  I  felt  certain  there  were  very 
few,  as  most  of  the  fighting  seemed  to  fall  on 
Bill  and  me. 

I  felt  rather  than  saw  that  Bill  was  beside 
me,  and  we  fell  back  side  by  side,  cutting, 
slashing,  thrusting  at  the  wild  figures  that 
swarmed  around  us.  I  had  emptied  the  revolver 
I  had  carried,  and  had  nothing  left  but  the 
cutlass,  and  already  I  felt  my  arm  growing 
benumbed  with  the  unusual  exertion.  I  gave 
one  quick  glance  around,  and  saw  that  Bill  and 
I  were  left  almost  alone. 

At  that  moment  I  heard  him  say :  "  Time's 

168 


A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

almost  up,  sir.  Ye  can  swim,  can't  ye?"  I 
didn't  turn  my  head  to  Bill,  but  I  half  turned 
and  nodded.  He  cut  a  big  negro  across  the  fore 
arm,  and  then  he  spoke  again :  "  Give  back  an' 
drop  overboard,  an'  come  up  under  her  starn." 

I  gave  a  hasty  glance  behind  me,  and  saw 
that  we  were  within  six  or  eight  feet  of  the 
bows.  I  just  managed  to  guard  a  thrust  from 
a  cutlass  and  to  spring  back  out  of  the  way  of 
a  blow  from  a  gunstock,  but  in  doing  so  my 
heel  caught  on  a  ring  in  the  deck,  and,  before 
I  could  do  anything  to  stop  myself,  I  staggered 
backward  and  fell  over  the  low  bulwark  head 
long  into  the  water.  It  was  so  sudden  that,  for 
the  moment,  I  had  almost  forgotten  it  was  ex 
actly  what  Bill  had  advised,  but  fortunately  I 
remembered  just  in  time,  and  as  I  came  to  the 
top  I  dived  again  and  swan  under  water  till 
I  came  up  under  the  stern.  I  had  scarcely  got 
my  breath  when  Bill  came  up  alongside  of  me. 

We  looked  at  one  another,  each  of  us  won 
dering  whether  the  other  was  wounded,  and 
then  Bill  gave  a  low  chuckle.  "  That  ain't  bad 
for  a  beginner,  a-beggin'  of  your  pardon,  sir; 
the  on'y  thing's,  wot's  to  be  did  next?"  We 
were  both  treading  water,  and  Bill  proceeded 
very  deliberately  to  look  around.  Presently 
he  broke  into  the  same  all  but  soundless  chuckle 

169 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

as  before.  "  Blowed  if  I  'ain't  hit  it,  sir,"  he 
whispered.  "  D'ye  see  that  theer  thunderin' 
great  rock ?"  he  asked,  in  the  same  tone,  pointing 
to  the  cliff,  which  didn't  seem  to  be  more  than 
thirty  yards  or  so  from  where  we  had  taken 
shelter.  I  looked  at  it,  and  could  see  that  it 
descended  sheer  into  the  water,  but  was  covered 
by  a  perfect  net  -  work  of  creepers  that  hung 
down  its  face  and  even  trailed  in  the  water. 
I  nodded.  "  Well,  sir,  wot  we've  got  for  to  do 
is  just  to  get  onder  them  leaves,  an'  quick  at 
that;  fur  I  ain't  a-sayin'  but  wot  I  can  almost 
feel  them  bloody  sharks  a-nibblin'  at  my  toes." 

I  hadn't  thought  of  it  till  then,  but  now  I 
seemed  to  feel  them,  too.  "  All  right,"  I  whis 
pered  ;  "  say  when." 

"  Theer  ain't  no  time  like  now,  sir,  I  reckon, 
on'y  mind  an'  swim  deep."  Bill  rose  in  the 
water  as  he  spoke  and  sounded  without  a  splash, 
and  I  followed  his  example.  It  seemed  a  long 
minute  before  I  felt  myself  come  up  close  to 
the  face  of  the  rock,  and  I  could  have  sworn 
that  something  was  biting  my  toes,  but  I  was 
delighted  to  find  Bill  before  me  under  the 
shadow  of  the  trailing  creepers.  It  was  a 
strange  place  in  which  I  found  myself,  for  the 
rock  shelved  outward  overhead,  and  the  creep 
ers  fell  like  a  screen  some  eight  or  ten  feet 
170 


A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

from  the  wall.  There  was  a  flat  shelf  of  rock, 
on  to  which  Bill  scrambled  hastily,  and  I  fol 
lowed  his  example  before  a  word  was  exchanged. 
Before  I  had  time  to  look  round  I  heard  Bill 
mutter,  in  a  tone  of  surprise :  "  Well,  I'm  blow- 
ed !  though  I  might  V  knowed  it,  too !" 

I  looked  up,  and  saw  that  Bill  had  already 
gained  his  feet  and  was  peering  curiously  into 
what  seemed  to  be  a  natural  passage  through  the 
rocky  promontory,  as  light  was  clearly  visible 
at  its  other  end.  I  too  regained  my  feet,  and 
looked  questioningly  at  my  companion. 

"  "Now  this  here's  wot  I  calls  a  circumstance," 
he  said.  "  It  were  out  o'  this  as  the  noise  come 
as  I  heerd  when  we  was  a-comin'  up  the  pas 
sage,  if  I  ain't  mistook."  No  doubt  Bill  was 
right,  for  the  gap  in  the  cliff  was  a  large  one, 
which  only  escaped  notice  from  either  side 
owing  to  the  dense  masses  of  creepers  that 
fell  from  the  top  to  the  water's  edge.  We  ex 
plored  the  great  natural  archway,  and  found  it 
not  more  than  forty  feet  through  from  side  to 
side,  ending  almost  at  the  level  of  the  water  on 
each  face.  On  the  outer  side,  however,  the 
cliff  receded  a  little  instead  of  overhanging,  and 
here  Bill  discovered  a  narrow  ledge  on  which 
rude  steps  had  been  cut,  by  which  it  looked  as 
if  an  active  man  might  easily  climb  to  the  top 

in 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

inside  the  creepers.  Bill,  indeed,  had  scrambled 
up  part  of  the  way,  when  we  heard  the  sound 
of  muffled  oars  advancing  up  the  passage. 
"  Well,  I  ain't  a-sayin'  but  wot  this  here's  a 
stroke  o'  luck,  neither,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  as 
he  scrambled  down  again.  "  We'll  get  took  off 
comfortable,  arter  all,  an',  as  like  as  not,  hev 
another  smack  at  them  niggers." 

We  listened  silently  as  the  throb  of  oars  drew 
gradually  nearer,  and  when  we  judged  the  boats 
were  close  at  hand  we  drew  aside  the  creepers 
sufficiently  to  enable  us  to  plunge  in  and  swim 
off  to  meet  them.  It  was  no  distance,  for  Mr. 
Parker's  boat  was  almost  abreast  of  the  place, 
and  they  stopped  the  moment  they  saw  us.  In 
another  minute  we  were  hauled  on  board  and 
I  had  told  my  story,  breathlessly.  By  the  time 
I  had  finished  the  other  boat  had  come  up  and 
lay  by  to  hear  the  news.  Mr.  Parker  asked 
Bill  and  me  a  lot  of  questions  about  the  passage 
through  the  rock,  and  how  the  schooner  lay 
on  the  inner  side.  At  last  he  said :  "  Then  it 
would  be  no  use  sending  a  party  through  the 
passage,  I  suppose,  Bill  ?" 

Bill  scratched  his  head  thoughtfully  for  an 
instant,  and  then  his  face  lighted  up.  "  No, 
sir,"  he  said,  "  I  ain't  a-sayin'  as  it  would,  not 

wi'  cutlasses,  leastways.    But  if  so  be  as  ye  had 
'  172 


A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

such  a  thing  as  a  shell  o'  some  sort,  I  might 
make  shift  for  to  throw  it  aboard  from  the  mast 
head,  in  a  manner  o7  speaking  w'ich  is  to  say 
from  the  upper  deck  o'  this  here  thunderin' 
rock." 

"  But  you  haven't  been  up  there,  Bill  ?"  Mr. 
Parker  said,  looking  admiringly  at  Bill's  reck 
less  face. 

"  No,  sir,  I  ain't  a-sayin'  as  I  have,  exac'ly ; 
but  if  so  be  theer's  anything  to  be  got  by  goin', 
I'll  get  there,  if  I  ain't  mistook." 

The  Lieutenant  looked  thoughtfully  at  the 
rock  and  then  at  Bill.  "  Well,  Bill,"  he  said 
at  last,  "  it's  worth  trying.  We've  got  two  or 
three  hand-grenades  aboard.  You  can  take  one 
and  see  what  you  can  do.  If  you  find  you  can 
manage  it,  light  the  fuse  and  throw  it  aboard, 
but  first  give  a  long  whistle  and  we'll  be  ready 
to  board." 

In  another  minute  we  had  run  the  cutter's 
bows  into  the  creepers  and  Bill  had  scrambled 
on  shore  and  disappeared.  We  backed  out  cau 
tiously,  and  lay  on  our  oars  waiting.  Then 
we  pulled  gently  up  to  the  opening  of  the  lagoon 
to  be  ready  for  a  rush,  and  waited  again,  every 
oar  just  dipping,  and  each  face  in  a  blaze  of 
excitement  as  we  listened.  It  felt  like  hours, 

and  we  began  to  think  something  must  have 
173 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

happened  to  Bill.  Every  eye  watched  Mr. 
Parker,  expecting  the  order  to  go  ahead,  when 
suddenly  a  long,  shrill  whistle  echoed  and  re 
echoed  through  the  passage,  followed  by  a 
hoarse  shout,  "Take  that  fur  a  mess  o'  bloomin' 
savages !" 

Mr.  Parker  rose  to  his  feet.  "  Give  way, 
men!  Give  way!"  he  shouted  almost  at  the 
same  moment,  while  each  oar  dipped  suddenly 
and  both  boats  shot  ahead  with  a  rush.  In  an 
other  moment  we  had  opened  the  lagoon,  and 
were  greeted  by  a  savage  yell  that  came  from 
the  crowded  deck  of  the  schooner.  It  had  scarce 
ly  reached  us  when  there  was  a  sudden  flash 
of  crimson  light,  a  great  jet  of  black  smoke, 
and  the  roar  of  an  explosion  which  instantly 
overpowered  the  shouts.  For  an  instant  it  seem 
ed  as  if  the  schooner  had  blown  up.  Everything 
heaved  and  rocked;  rigging,  spars,  and  masts 
appeared  to  be  collapsing  in  the  dense  clouds  of 
smoke,  and  the  air  seemed  to  be  filled  with 
pieces  of  timber  that  fell  in  hail  on  the  water 
around  her. 

"Hold  hard,  men!  Back  water!"  Mr. 
Parker  shouted,  and  by  an  effort  the  boats 
were  stopped  before  he  had  got  within  the 
radius  of  the  explosion.  When  we  boarded, 

after  a  minute  or  two,  there  was  no  opposition. 
174 


A    WARM    CORNER    IN    SOOLOO 

The  deck  was  burned  and  blackened;  coils  of 
rope,  and  even  the  clothing  on  the  bodies  of 
dead  and  wounded  men,  were  smouldering; 
part  of  the  bulwarks  had  been  blown  away  and 
the  rigging  was  hanging  loose  and  torn.  The 
greater  part  of  the  pirate  crew  had  taken  refuge 
below,  many  of  them  badly  scorched,  and  they 
were  easily  secured  by  our  men.  One  of  the 
pirate's  boats  had  evidently  been  lowered  since 
Bill  and  I  had  left  her,  for  she  was  still  float 
ing  astern.  I  was  looking  at  her  and  wonder 
ing  whether  they  had  intended  to  look  for  us, 
when  there  was  a  hail  from  the  foot  of  the  cliff, 
and  Mr.  Parker  turned  to  me  and  said :  "  That 
must  be  our  friend  Bill.  Take  a  couple  of 
hands  and  fetch  him  off ;  I  want  to  find  out  how 
all  this  happened." 

Bill's  story  was  a  simple  one,  and  may  be 
told  in  his  own  words :  "  Well,  sir,  ye  see  it 
was  this  way :  I  ain't  a-sayin'  as  how  that  were 
exac'ly  a  ladies'  staircase,  neither,  come  to  look 
at  it  close,  but  in  course  I  goes  up.  At  the  top 
it  were  all  a  mess  o'  bamboos  an'  sich  trash, 
conseckens  o'  w'ich  I  took  longer  to  fetch  an 
anchorage  than  wot  I  expected,  but  w'en  I  did 
theer  warn't  hardly  anything  for  to  do.  Theer 
she  were,  as  it  might  be  a-layin'  alongside,  in 

a  manner  o'  speakin',  the  crew  on  deck  an'  all 
175 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

hands  ready.  Right  amidships  they  had  fetched 
a  thunderin'  great  chest  an'  filled  it  chock  full 
o'  cartridges  fur  to  be  handy.  Sez  I  to  myself, 
theer's  yer  chance,  Bill  Jones,  fur  to  be  even 
wi'  them  bloomin'  savages,  arter  all;  an'  wF 
that  I  sounds  the  whistle,  accordin'  to  orders, 
an'  heaves  that  theer  grenade,  havin'  first  light 
ed  the  fuse  o'  the  same  in  course,  right  aboard. 
I  ain't  a-sayin'  but  wot  it  were  lucky,  neither, 
sir,  fur  I  ain't  much  o'  a  shot  as  a  reg'lar  thing. 
An'  speakin'  o'  that,  sir,  I  think  as  some  more 
o'  our  boat's  crew  hev  got  to  shore,  an'  I  ain't 
a-sayin'  but  them  fellers  was  a-goin'  arter  them 
wi'  this  here  boat  if  so  be  as  nothin'  hadn't 
happened  oncomf or  table." 


XII 

"CAP'N   I'S"  CLOSEST    CALL 
A  Tale  of  Fire  at  Sea 

ONE  warm  moonlit  evening,  not  many 
months  ago,  I  stood  on  the  bridge  of  a  great 
south-bound  steamship.  We  were  somewhere  off 
the  Florida  coast,  but  far  from  it,  and  well  to 
the  eastward  of  the  Gulf  Stream.  Consequent 
ly,  though  the  season  was  winter,  the  air  was  as 
balmy  as  that  of  a  Northern  June.  The  sea 
was  perfectly  smooth,  and  a  school  of  porpoises, 
darting  close  to  our  bows  through  the  phos 
phorescent  waters,  gleamed  like  flashes  of  liquid 
silver.  The  first  officer,  who  was  on  watch, 
stood  at  one  end  of  the  bridge,  and  I  leaned  on 
its  railing  near  Captain  Ira  Carey — or  "  Cap'n 
I,"  as  he  was  always  called  by  his  intimates — 
at  the  other.  My  companion  was  as  fine  a 
specimen  of  a  Yankee  seaman  as  ever  trod 
a  deck,  and  had  been  on  the  water,  boy  and 
man,  for  nearly  forty  years.  Not  one  of  us  had 
177 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

spoken  for  many  minutes,  when  the  silence 
was  at  length  broken  by  "  Cap'n  I,"  who, 
straightening  up  and  speaking  half  aloud,  as 
though  continuing  a  train  of  thought,  said : 

"  Yes,  it  must  have  been  just  about  here." 

"  What  ?"  I  asked,  anxiously,  thinking  he  had 
spoken  to  me. 

The  Captain  regarded  me  in  silence  for  some 
seconds  before  he  answered :  "  The  closest  call 
of  my  Kfe.  And  though  I've  sailed  these  same 
waters  a  hundred  times  or  more  since,  I  al 
ways  look  for  the  place,  and  never  leave  the 
deck  until  I  feel  certain  that  we  have  passed 
it.  "Now  I  am  quite  sure  that  we  have,  so  let's 
go  below  for  a  smoke." 

A  minute  later  we  were  seated  in  the  Cap 
tain's  spacious  and  handsomely  furnished  room, 
where  the  warm  breeze  softly  rustled  the  cur 
tains  and  wafted  the  fragrance  of  our  cigars 
through  the  open  doorways. 

"  Now  for  it,  Captain,"  I  said. 

"For  what?" 

"  Your  yarn." 

"What  "yarn?" 

"  Why,  the  yarn  of  your  closest  call,  of 
course." 

"  Oh,  that !  It  isn't  much  of  a  yarn,  and  I 
don't  know  as  I  can  remember  the  facts  very 
178 


"CAP'N    I'S"  CLOSEST    CALL 

well,  anyhow,  it  all  happened  so  long  ago.  But 
if  you  must  have  it,  here  goes : 

"  It  was  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  and  I 
was  only  a  youngster,  in  spite  of  being  first 
mate  of  the  good  brig  Rover,  of  and  from  New 
York,  with  a  general  cargo  for  Mobile.  After 
we'd  taken  in  the  bulk  of  our  freight,  among 
which  was  a  lot  of  what  in  those  days  we  called 
(  straw  goods,'  or  carriages  knocked  down  and 
wrapped  in  straw,  we  dropped  down  to  Bed- 
loe's  Island  and  took  aboard  five  tons  of  pow 
der.  It  was  in  canisters,  packed  in  white  pine 
boxes,  and  I  stowed  it  directly  under  the  main- 
hatch,  where  it  could  be  easily  got  at  in  case 
of  accident.  With  this  our  lading  was  com 
pleted,  and,  having  nothing  more  to  detain  us, 
we  towed  down  to  the  Hook  and  put  to  sea.  We 
stood  well  to  the  eastward  of  south  until  we 
were  clear  of  the  Gulf,  and  then  laid  a  course 
for  the  Hole  in  the  Wall,  down  here  in  the 
Bahamas. 

"  For  a  week  nothing  special  happened,  ex 
cept  that  we  got  blown  farther  to  the  east 
ward  than  we  liked,  and  pretty  well  out  of  the 
usual  track  of  vessels  passing  through  the  Hole 
in  the  Wall.  At  length  the  last  day  that  any 
of  us  ever  spent  aboard  the  old  brig  came  on, 
bright  and  hot,  with  a  fair  but  light  breeze  that 
13  179 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

allowed  us  to  set  everything  alow  and  aloft, 
and  even  to  put  "  stun-sails  '  on  her.  When 
night  fell  we  were  not  far  from  where  this 
ship  was  a  couple  of  hours  ago,  or  about  two 
hundred  miles  from  the  northern  end  of  the 
Bahamas. 

"  That  evening  was  very  much  such  a  one 
as  this,  and  found  us  slipping  along  as  smooth 
as  silk,  leaving  a  phosphorescent  wake  like 
silver  ribbons  behind  us.  The  '  old  man '  and 
I  both  turned  in  at  eight  bells,  leaving  the  sec 
ond  mate  on  deck.  It  seemed  uncommon  hot 
and  close  down  below,  even  for  these  latitudes ; 
but  leaving  our  doors  open  for  the  sake  of  what 
air  did  circulate,  the  Captain  and  I  kept  up  the 
talk  we  had  begun  on  deck.  We  occupied  the 
two  starboard  state-rooms — he  the  after  one, 
and  I  the  one  nearest  the  bulkhead  that  sepa 
rated  the  cabin  from  the  hold.  In  this  bulk 
head  was  a  door. 

"  Getting  started  on  an  old  sea-yarn,  the  Cap 
tain  kept  me  awake  for  more  than  an  hour ;  but 
I  was  getting  drowsy  at  last,  and  hardly  knew 
what  he  was  saying,  when  suddenly  he  sung 
out :  '  Hello,  Iry !  Don't  you  smell  smoke  ?' 
I  was  wide  awake  in  an  instant,  and  I  should 
say  I  did  smell  smoke.  It  was  what  had  been 
putting  me  to  sleep,  though  I  had  not  realized 
180 


"*AS  I  OPENED  THE  DOOR  A  BURST  OF  FLAME  GREETED  ME'" 


"CAP'N    I'S"    CLOSEST    CALL 

it  until  that  moment.  I  sprang  out  of  my 
bunk  and  into  the  cabin.  There  was  no  fire 
there,  but  as  I  opened  the  door  in  the  bulk 
head  such  a  burst  of  red  flames  greeted  me 
that  I  closed  it  again  in  a  hurry.  Then  I  made 
one  bound  up  the  companionway,  yelling  to  the 
Captain  as  I  went  that  we'd  no  time  to  lose  in 
getting  out  of  there. 

"  As  I  gained  the  deck  the  second  mate  was 
taking  a  turn  along  the  weather  side  as  cool  and 
unconcerned  as  you  please,  without  a  suspicion 
that  anything  was  going  wrong.  He  stared  at 
me  as  though  he  thought  I  was  a  lunatic  when 
I  shouted  to  him  that  the  brig  was  on  fire,  and 
to  lower  away  the  gig  that  hung  from  the  stern- 
davits  if  he  valued  his  life.  At  the  same  time 
I  ran  forward  to  call  all  hands.  The  tone  of 
my  voice  must  have  frightened  them,  for  I 
never  saw  a  more  scared  set  of  men  than  those 
that  came  aft  at  my  summons. 

"  A  couple  of  them  helped  me  uncover  and 
lift  the  main-hatch.  I  thought  if  the  fire 
hadn't  yet  got  to  the  powder,  we  might  find 
time  to  throw  it  overboard,  and  then  have  a 
chance  of  saving  the  ship.  But  bless  you!  the 
flames  were  not  only  near  the  powder,  they 
were  all  around  it,  and  it  is  a  great  wonder 
we  hadn't  been  blown  to  eternity  long  before. 

181 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

As  I  caught  sight  of  their  red  tongues  licking 
those  pine  boxes,  I  got  the  hatch  back  into 
place  in  a  hurry  and  ordered  the  men  into 
the  boat,  which  by  this  time  was  towing  astern. 
All  this  had  happened  so  quickly  that  the  crew 
were  tumbling  over  the  stern  by  the  time  the 
Captain  put  his  head  out  of  the  companion- 
way.  There  he  stood  staring  about  him  like 
one  who  is  dazed.  He  had  stopped  to  slip  into 
some  clothes,  and  had  a  medicine-chest  under 
his  arm  in  place  of  the  chronometer  he  thought 
he  was  saving. 

"With  all  the  calmness  I  could  command  I 
reported  to  him  that  our  powder  was  liable  to 
explode  at  any  instant,  and  begged  him  to  drop 
into  the  gig,  from  which  the  men  were  already 
shouting  that  they  were  about  to  cut  her  adrift. 
The  '  old  man '  glanced  at  the  boat,  and,  seeing 
that  it  was  crowded,  ordered  me  to  cut  away 
the  starboard  quarter-boat,  which  also  hung 
from  davits. 

"  At  this  I  hesitated.  It  seemed  like  deliber 
ate  suicide  to  remain  on  that  brig's  deck  a  mo 
ment  longer,  and  I  didn't  feel  any  more  ready 
to  die  then  than  I  do  now.  At  the  same  time 
I  never  had  disobeyed  an  order  from  a  superior 
officer,  and  I  wasn't  inclined  to  do  so  for  no 
better  cause  than  cowardice.  So  I  did  as  I  was 

182 


"CAP'N    I'S"    CLOSEST    CALL 

told;  but  while  hacking  at  those  falls  beside 
that  smouldering  volcano  my  heart  was  so  high 
in  my  throat  that  it  came  nigh  choking  me. 
When  the  boat  fell  clear  and  drifted  astern  with 
the  Captain,  who  had  jumped  into  her  as  she 
touched  the  water,  yelling  to  me  to  follow  him, 
I  hadn't  the  strength  to  do  it.  My  knees  weak 
ened  so  that  I  couldn't  have  lifted  my  feet  to 
save  me.  On  my  hands  and  knees  I  crawled 
aft,  and  rolled  overboard  just  as  the  men  cut 
the  painter  of  the  gig. 

"  The  instant  I  touched  the  water  I  was  all 
right  again,  and  inside  of  another  minute  I 
had  swum  to  the  gig  and  was  standing  in  its 
bows  watching  the  brig.  She  was  slipping  away 
from  us  very  quietly,  but  more  swiftly  than  I 
had  supposed  her  to  be  moving,  and  her  tower 
ing  pyramid  of  canvas,  bleached  to  a  snowy 
whiteness  or  barred  with  black  shadows  by  the 
moonlight,  formed  as  perfect  a  picture  of  ma 
rine  life  as  ever  a  sailor  would  care  to  look 
upon.  At  that  moment  I  fairly  loved  the  old 
brig,  and  wished  that  I  could  regain  her  deck 
so  as  to  make  one  effort  to  save  her.  There 
were  no  flames  to  be  seen,  nor  even  a  trace  of 
smoke,  and  I  heard  one  of  the  men  behind  me 
mutter  that  he  didn't  see  why  we  had  left  her 
in  such  a  hurry,  anyway. 

183 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  The  words  had  hardly  left  his  mouth  be 
fore  there  came  the  most  blinding  glare  and 
deafening  crash  that  mortals  ever  saw  and  heard 
and  yet  lived  to  tell  of.  I  was  hurled,  stunned 
and  blinded,  backward  into  the  boat ;  and  before 
I  could  in  any  degree  recover  my  senses  the 
place  where  I  had  stood  was  crushed  into  a 
shapeless  mass  of  splinters  by  the  brig's  fore- 
yard  that  the  explosion  had  sent  crashing  down 
on  us.  A  moment  later  the  boat  sank  and  left 
us  eight  souls,  dazed,  bruised,  and  bleeding 
from  many  wounds,  instinctively  clinging  to 
the  great  spar  that  had  so  nearly  destroyed  us. 

"  That,  I  say,  was  the  closest  call  of  my  life. 
I  hadn't  left  the  brig's  deck  more  than  a  min 
ute  before  the  explosion  took  place,  and  the 
falling  yard  would  have  crushed  me  to  jelly 
had  I  been  sitting  instead  of  standing  in  the 
bows  of  the  boat.  Indeed,  to  go  back  further, 
if  the  i  old  man '  hadn't  taken  the  notion  to 
spin  one  of  his  long-winded  yarns,  and  so  kept 
us  both  awake  for  some  time  after  we  had  turn 
ed  in,  every  soul  on  that  brig  would  have  been 
ushered  into  eternity  without  a  moment's  warn 
ing,  and  her  unknown  fate  would  have  been 
recorded  as  one  more  of  the  unexplained  mys 
teries  of  the  sea." 

"  It  was  indeed  a  close  call,"  I  said,  as  the 
184 


"CAP'N    TS"    CLOSEST    CALL 

Captain  paused  to  relight  his  cigar,  "  and  about 
the  very  narrowest  escape  from  sudden  death 
that  I  ever  heard  of.  But  how  did  the  brig 
catch  fire  ?  and  how  were  you  finally  rescued  ?" 

"  As  to  how  she  caught  fire/'  replied  the 
Captain,  "  none  of  us  ever  knew ;  but  I  have 
always  believed  that  it  was  through  the  spon 
taneous  combustion  of  a  lot  of  oil-skins  that 
formed  part  of  her  cargo.  As  to  our  rescue, 
we  were  taken  from  the  yards  by  the  Captain  in 
the  quarter-boat,  which  had  escaped  without 
injury  from  the  shower  of  heavy  debris  that 
fell  all  around  it  immediately  after  the  ex 
plosion.  And  that  reminds  me  of  another  feat 
ure  of  my  '  closest  call ' ;  for  if  my  instinct 
of  obedience  had  not  been  strong  enough  to 
force  me  to  cut  loose  that  boat  at  the  Captain's 
bidding,  we  should  probably  have  drifted  help 
lessly  on  that  yard  until  we  perished  from 
thirst  or  could  cling  to  it  no  longer. 

"  We  had  no  sail  in  the  boat,  and  it  leaked 
so  badly  that  one  man  was  kept  constantly  bail 
ing.  Of  course  we  had  saved  nothing,  not  even 
a  drop  of  fresh  water  or  a  biscuit.  I  was  in 
my  shirt  and  drawers,  while  some  of  the  men 
had  even  less  clothing.  At  first  we  were  help 
lessly  bewildered  by  the  suddenness  and  fright 
ful  character  of  the  disaster  that  had  befallen 
185 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

us.  It  had  all  happened  within  a  few  minutes, 
and  more  than  once  I  rubbed  my  eyes  to  see  if 
I  were  not  dreaming.  While  we  were  in  this 
state  a  mass  of  floating  wreckage,  that  was 
burning  or  smoking  in  every  direction  about 
us,  surged  against  our  little  craft  with  such 
force  that  she  was  nearly  stove.  The  hint  was 
sufficient,  and,  taking  to  the  oars,  we  soon  pull 
ed  clear  of  this  danger.  Then  the  Captain  said 
that  as  our  nearest  land  was  the  Bahamas, 
less  than  two  hundred  miles  away,  the  best 
thing  we  could  do  was  to  pull  in  that  direction, 
with  a  slim  chance  of  making  one  of  the  isl 
ands,  and  a  better  one  of  falling  in  with  some 
vessel.  As  all  hands  agreed  that  we  could  do 
no  better,  the  '  old  man '  laid  a  star  course  that 
he  thought  would  fetch  us  to  one  of  the  Abacos, 
and  we  set  out. 

"I  was  thirsty  before  we  started,  and  the 
knowledge  that  we  hadn't  a  drop  of  anything 
to  drink  made  me  doubly  so.  Of  course  I  took 
my  turn  at  the  oars  with  the  rest,  and  this  so 
increased  my  thirst  that  by  morning  I  was  well- 
nigh  crazy  with  the  terrible  longing  for  water. 
I  recalled  all  the  cool  springs  and  rippling 
brooks  I  had  ever  known ;  and  with  closed  eyes 
I  could  see  the  old  well  at  home,  with  its  mossy 
stones,  its  tall  sweep,  and  its  shadowy  depths, 
186 


"CAP'N    I'S"    CLOSEST    CALL 

as  plainly  as  I  can  see  you  now.  I  tell  you 
what,  there  is  nothing  equal  to  a  raging  thirst 
for  stimulating  the  imagination. 

"  At  length  the  long  night  came  to  an  end 
and  the  sun  rose,  red  and  hot,  from  a  sea  un 
ruffled  by  a  breath.  With  this  our  sufferings 
were  increased,  until  finally  one  of  the  men 
threw  down  his  oar  and  declared  he  would 
rather  die  where  he  was  than  pull  another 
stroke.  Two  others  followed  his  example,  and 
for  an  hour  or  so  we  lay  idly  drifting  up  the 
slopes  of  the  glassy  swells  and  into  the  hollows 
beyond. 

"  All  at  once  the  Captain,  who  was  standing 
up,  called  out  that  he  saw  a  sail;  and  as  our 
boat  rose  on  the  next  swell  we  all  saw  it.  An 
electric  shock  could  not  have  dispelled  our  list- 
lessness  more  completely.  The  men  bent  to 
their  oars  with  such  new  life  that  our  craft 
sprang  forward  as  though  she  were  engaged  in 
a  race.  An  hour  showed  the  strange  sail  to  be 
a  schooner  and  brought  her  hull  in  sight.  At 
the  end  of  another  we  were  within  half  a  mile 
of  her.  Then  a  breeze  came — only  in  cat's- 
paws,  to  be  sure,  but  enough  to  move  her,  and 
in  the  wrong  direction.  She  sailed  away  from 
us  at  such  a  rate  that,  while  we  could  hold  our 
own  with  her,  we  couldn't  gain  an  inch.  For 
187 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

a  few  minutes  we  rowed  like  madmen,  Then, 
as  we  saw  that  it  was  of  no  use,  we  began  to 
yell.  Singly  and  all  together  we  shouted  until 
only  hoarse  whispers  came  from  our  blistered 
throats.  The  schooner  might  have  been  manned 
by  the  dead,  for  all  the  notice  her  people  took 
of  us.  Finally  we  gave  up  the  hopeless  strug 
gle  and  flung  ourselves  down  in  the  bottom  of 
our  boat,  where  some  of  the  men  cried,  while 
others  swore,  and  still  others  lay  like  logs.  No 
one  would  even  look  after  the  retreating  schoon 
er,  except  the  Captain,  who  never  took  his  eyes 
off  her.  Suddenly  he  shouted :  '  The  breeze  has 
died  out  again,  and  her  sails  are  flapping.  Now 
for  one  more  try,  men!  Kemember  it's  for 
your  lives!'  With  this  he  motioned  me  to  the 
tiller,  and  took  my  oar.  This  time  we  made 
it,  and  I  think  I  was  never  so  grateful  for  any 
thing  in  my  life,  nor  so  happy,  as  when  we 
ranged  alongside  of  that  little  schooner  and 
made  fast  to  her  bobstay.  Up  to  this  time  we 
had  not  seen  a  human  being  nor  a  sign  of  life 
aboard  her.  We  clambered  up  over  her  bows 
and  made  a  mad  rush  aft  for  the  scuttle-butt. 
As  we  did  so  I  saw  a  man  near  the  wheel  rub 
bing  his  eyes  and  staring  at  us  wildly,  as  though 
he  had  just  waked.  Then  we  heard  him  yell: 
6  Pirates !  All  hands  on  deck !  We're  boarded 
188 


"CAP'N    I'S"    CLOSEST    CALL 

by  pirates !'  With  that  the  crew  came  tumbling 
up  from  below,  where  they  had  been  taking 
advantage  of  the  calm  to  indulge  in  a  late  morn 
ing  nap. 

"  The  craft  was  the  schooner  Diamond  from 
Baracoa,  with  cocoanuts  for  Boston.  She  was 
only  about  the  size  of  a  Gloucester  fisherman, 
but  she  answered  our  purpose  as  well  as  though 
she  had  been  a  Cunarder.  We  could  have  kiss 
ed  every  plank  of  her  deck  in  our  joy  at  tread 
ing  them,  and  at  that  moment  I  for  one  would 
not  have  exchanged  her  scuttle-butt  for  all  the 
wells  in  Christendom. 

"  No  one  could  be  kinder  than  were  the 
Diamond's  people  when  they  learned  of  our 
misfortune.  They  furnished  us  with  clothing, 
with  food,  and  with  drink  to  the  full  extent 
of  their  means.  Then  the  schooner  was  headed 
for  the  scene  of  the  explosion,  which  we  reach 
ed  a  few  hours  later.  The  sea  for  miles  was 
covered  with  the  charred  wreckage  of  the  brig; 
but  we  recovered  nothing  of  value  except  a  few 
cases  of  patent  medicines  and  the  ship's  cat, 
which,  with  half  her  hair  singed  off,  we  found 
floating  about  on  a  straw  -  wrapped  carriage- 
wheel.  A  week  later  we  were  in  Boston,  with 
our  recent  sufferings  well-nigh  forgotten,  and 
ready  to  ship  for  another  voyage.  They  are 
189 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

very  vividly  recalled  to  me,  though,  by  the 
knowledge  that  I  am  in  the  very  waters  where 
they  were  endured,  and  by  passing  the  place 
of  my  '  closest  call/  as  we  did  this  evening." 


XIII 
MY  BORROWED   TORPEDO-BOAT 

Pursued  by  the  Russian  Police 

"  O  CEATCH  a  Eussian  and  you'll  find  a  Tar- 
O  tar  underneath."  That  is  a  saying  which 
applies  to  most  Eussians,  perhaps,  but  not  to  M. 
Gremurief.  A  more  gentle  soul  could  scarcely 
have  distinguished  any  babe  in  arms,  nor  could 
a  sweeter  disposition  easily  be  found  even  among 
the  women  throughout  all  the  Eussias.  Since 
I  knew  him,  it  is  almost  needless  to  say  that 
he  kept  a  curio-shop,  for  the  chances  usually 
are,  in  my  travels,  that  it  is  to  the  dealers  in 
bric-a-brac  that  I  pay  my  earliest  and  most  fre 
quent  visits.  His  shop  was  in  St.  Petersburg, 
close  to  the  Moscow  railway  station.  It  was 
a  very  small  one,  yet  it  contained  more  altar 
ornaments  of  real  old  Eussian  bronze,  more 
beautiful  old  ikons,  and  more  ancient  oddities 
in  brass  and  gilt  ware  than  any  other  shop  I 
had  seen. 

191 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

He  and  his  place  offered  the  unlikeliest  ma 
terial  for  an  adventure,  and  yet  they  provided 
me  with  the  greatest  sensation  of  my  life — an 
adventure  which  I  should  not  like  to  pass 
through  again,  and  yet  one  which  I  would  not 
have  missed  on  any  account.  To  state  the  facts 
briefly:  During  one  of  my  visits  to  M.  Gre- 
murief 's  shop  I  heard  the  cough  of  a  third  per 
son  sounding  apparently  in  the  room  where  only 
we  two  were  sitting.  In  itself  it  startled  me 
sufficiently,  though  the  manifest  consternation 
of  the  shopkeeper  gave  me  much  more  to  think 
of  after  I  parted  with  him.  I  asked  him  what 
the  noise  was,  and  it  was  painful  to  hear  how 
he  stuttered  and  stammered  out  a  denial  that 
there  had  been  any  sound  unless,  perhaps,  he 
himself  had  coughed  without  being  aware  of 
having  done  so.  On  another  occasion,  while 
I  was  seated  in  the  shop  conversing  with  my 
acquaintance,  a  part  of  the  wall  behind  us 
shook,  and  a  costly  Chinese  drug-jar  fell  on 
the  floor  in  pieces.  Again  I  was  much  more 
disturbed  by  the  frightened,  guilty  manner  of 
the  merchant  than  by  the  peculiar  occurrence 
itself.  On  another  day  I  sought  to  relieve 
my  lonesomeness  with  his  company.  To  tell 
the  truth,  I  was  not  averse  to  discovering  the 
mystery  that  brooded  in  his  shop  and  gave 
192 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

rise  to  the  incidents  I  have  mentioned.  The 
door  stood  half  open,  and  I  sprang  up  the  steps 
and  inside  with  an  agility  which  left  no  time 
for  the  inmates  of  the  place  to  take  warning 
of  my  visit.  As  I  entered  a  man  leaped  from 
where  he  had  been  standing  as  if  into  the  wall. 
I  saw  his  figure  distinctly  in  the  gloom  of  the 
dusky  place,  and  next  I  saw  that  he  pulled 
after  him  a  sort  of  bureau  or  set  of  shelves 
which  I  had  imagined  to  be  an  immovable  fix 
ture  of  the  shop. 

As  if  he  was  fascinated  by  the  sight,  or  per 
haps  horror-stricken,  M.  Grernurief  watched  the 
cabinet  slide  into  its  place,  and  I  watched  his 
face  and  its  look  of  alarm.  Then  we  greeted 
each  other  and  made  an  effort  to  converse  to 
gether.  It  was  impossible.  Both  of  us  were 
too  ill  at  ease. 

"I  will  say  good-bye  to  you,"  I  remarked. 
"  There  is  evidently  something  wrong  here, 
and  in  Russia  I  have  no  desire  to  meddle,  or 
even  to  intrude,  where  there  is  anything  dubi 
ous  or  underhand.  It  is  too  dangerous." 

"  In  the  name  of  all  the  saints,  don't  mis 
judge  me !"  he  exclaimed.  "  I  live  in  sufficient 
terror  as  it  is,  without  the  added  alarm  it  would 
bring  should  you  go  away  to  harbor  a  wrong 
impression  of  me.  I  am  in  your  power,  but  you 
193 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

are  a  foreigner  and  cannot  have  any  interest 
in  ruining  me.  Come  to-night  at  eight  o'clock, 
when  the  day's  business  is  over,  and  I  will  bare 
my  secret  to  you." 

At  that  hour  I  returned  and  found  Gre- 
murief  and  a  second  man,  a  stranger,  await 
ing  me.  The  shopkeeper  was  in  a  high  fever 
of  excitement,  and  plunged  into  his  story  al 
most  as  soon  as  I  was  seated.  The  stranger  sat 
shyly  by  in  silence,  with  his  eyes  on  the 
floor. 

The  story  Gremurief  told  me  was  that  he  had 
a  wild  and  reckless  son  who  was,  what  he  called, 
a  patriot,  or,  as  we  would  say,  a  nihilist.  This 
son,  an  engineer  at  work  in  Moscow,  had  sent 
to  him  the  stranger  who  sat  with  us,  asking  that 
he  be  concealed  until  the  zeal  of  the  police  in 
searching  for  him  should  be  dulled  and  he 
dared  to  try  to  make  his  way  out  of  Russia. 
Gremurief  disavowed  sympathy  with  the  nihil 
ists,  and  I  believe  he  was  pursuing  no  other 
interest  than  affection  for  his  son. 

"  This  man  is  not  merely  an  outlaw,"  he 
said,  looking  at  the  fugitive  with  something 
more  of  sternness  than  I  had  supposed  he  had 
the  spirit  to  command,  "  he  is  a  bungler  and  a 
fool.  Twice  he  aroused  your  suspicion  by  the 
noises  he  made,  and,  finally,  after  repeatedly 
194 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

risking  exposure  by  coming  out  of  his  hiding- 
place,  he  allowed  you  to  discover  him." 

"  My  feet  ached,"  said  the  man,  with  the 
look  of  one  who  knows  he  is  speaking  foolishly. 
"  Sometimes  I  preferred  a  lifetime  in  Siberia 
to  even  another  ten  minutes  of  the  pain  which 
so  much  standing  caused  me." 

"  You  will  not  complain  of  that  pain  any 
more,"  said  the  shopkeeper.  "  To-night  you 
go  out  on  your  travels.  I  will  not  harbor  you 
another  day." 

Then  followed  a  dialogue  of  the  most  moving 
character.  The  fugitive  pleaded  with  the  shop 
keeper  to  reconsider  his  cruel  decision  and  al 
low  him  to  remain.  M.  Gremurief  was  firm 
and  almost  pitiless.  He  declared  that  he  had 
lived  in  terror  long  enough  and  could  endure 
no  more  of  it.  The  wretched  outlaw  pleaded 
and  moaned,  and  even  I  interceded  for  him — 
like  a  fool.  But  the  shopkeeper  was  obdurate. 

"  You  hid  Nikolavitch  for  three  months," 
said  the  nihilist,  "  and  no  harm  came  to  you ; 
yet  in  my  case,  after  only  a  week,  your  patience 
vanishes  and  you  are  going  to  abandon  me  to 
the  wrath  of  the  Czar." 

"  I  did  not  hide  Kikolavitch,"  the  shopkeeper 
replied,  angry,  truthful,  and  completely  off  his 
guard. 

14  195 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  Oh,  you  did — you  surely  did/7  the  man  in 
sisted.  "  Every  patriot  in  our  circle  in  Moscow 
knows  that  you  did.77 

"  No,  my  poor  friend/7  M.  Gremurief  re 
plied.  "  You  are  the  first  nihilist  who,  to  my 
knowledge,  has  ever  entered  my  premises — ex 
cept  my  misguided  son,  of  course.77 

"  By  whom,  then,  was  jSTikolavitch  hidden  ?" 
the  nihilist  persisted.  "  You  know  it  was  only 
your  kind  heart  that  saved  him.  Why  do  you 
not  only  spoil  a  good  deed,  but  put  a  lie  against 
yourself  on  God7s  books  ?" 

"  Fool/7  said  Gremurief,  "  it  was  not  I,  but 
the  Princess  Golrouki,  who  hid  Nikolavitch." 

"  Take  me  to  her,  then.  At  least,  tell  me 
where  she  is.  She  will  not  have  a  heart  of 
marble  like  you.77 

"  She  is  at  her  home  in  the  city/7  Gremurief 
answered.  "  But  you  shall  not  go  to  her,  for 
she  has  had  risk  enough.  Her  hair  has  been 
bleached  by  constant  danger  for  twenty  years. 
Hereafter  she  shall  enjoy  the  peace  she  has 
earned.77 

At  this  the  man  sprang  to  his  feet  and, 
throwing  back  his  head  so  as  to  take  on  the 
attitude  which  painters  give  to  a  victor  in  the 
Eoman  arena,  he  almost  petrified  us  both  by 
what  he  said: 

196 


"  '  I    AM    DENISOV    OF    THE    POLICE  '  " 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

"  The  Princess  shall  indeed  receive  what  she 
has  earned.  I  am  Denisov  of  the  police — you 
know  my  rank  and  reputation.  I  have  now  all 
the  proof  I  need  against  your  son,  yourself, 
the  Princess,  and  many  others.  You  cannot 
escape;  you  will  find  the  front  and  back  of  this 
house  guarded  all  night.  In  the  morning  you 
will  be  taken  before  my  superiors.  Your  Ameri 
can  friend  may  take  his  leave.  I  will  pay  my 
respects  to  him  later,  when  he  will  answer  to 
the  authorities  for  the  company  he  keeps  and 
the  republican  sentiments  I  have  heard  him  ex 
press  during  his  visits  here." 

Twenty  hours  later  I  sauntered  into  the 
hotel  at  which  I  was  stopping.  Nothing  had 
come  of  the  police  official's  threat,  and  I  could 
not  bring  myself  to  believe  that  I  was  in  danger. 
I  passed  along  a  side  corridor  towards  my  room. 
Suddenly  a  man  who  was  walking  ahead  of  me 
turned  right-about  face  and  spoke  to  me — with 
a  torrent  of  whispered  words. 

"  The  police  are  waiting  for  you  in  your 
apartment,"  he  said.  "  They  have  taken  your 
money  and  your  passport  which  you  left  with 
the  landlord.  Go  to  your  room,  and  nothing 
can  save  you  from  continuing  until  the  oblivion 
of  Siberia  envelops  you.  They  connect  you 
with  some  great  nihilistic  plot,  and,  though  you 
197 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

are  innocent,  they  will  swear  your  liberty  away 
in  order  to  gain  the  more  credit  for  zealous 
work.  I  am  a  friend  of  the  Princess  Golrouki, 
who  has  risked  everything,  and  now  has  lost 
everything,  for  the  cause  of  liberty.  She  prays 
for  your  escape.  Turn  at  once,  follow  me,  but 
do  not  speak  to  me  either  in  this  house  or  in  the 
street  unless  you  wish  me  harm.  I  will  take 
you  by  a  back  way  to  the  street.  Then  you  must 
shift  for  yourself." 

In  an  hour  I  was  aboard  the  ship  'Alexis  as 
it  steamed  down  the  Neva,  bound  for  Stock 
holm.  It  was  the  same  boat  on  which  I  had 
come  to  St.  Petersburg,  and  the  Captain  and 
I  were  friends.  In  the  morning,  at  breakfast, 
I  sat  at  the  Captain's  left  hand,  and  he  said, 
motioning  to  the  opposite  seat :  "  Inspector 
Denisov,  a  high  official  of  the  police,  is  on  board 
and  will  eat  with  us.  He  is  on  a  serious  errand. 
A  foreign  nihilist  is  among  the  passengers,  it 
seems,  and  is  to  be  arrested  at  Helsingfors  if 
he  does  not  try  to  get  off  the  ship  before  we 
reach  there.  He  is  charming — the  Inspector, 
I  mean.  I  will  introduce  you.  By-the-way, 
you  have  not  yet  given  me  your  passport.  I 
must  trouble  you  for  it,  as  our  companion  at 
table  desires  the  papers  of  all  the  passengers  to 
be  submitted  to  his  inspection." 
198 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

I  blushed  rose  red  and  stammered  something 
about  my  papers  being  in  my  trunk.  For  an 
instant  the  hope  that  I  could  retain  possession 
of  the  paper  lingered  in  my  mind,  but  I  quick 
ly  dismissed  it.  Of  what  use  could  it  be  to  post 
pone  events,  since  it  could  be  but  a  question  of 
a  few  hours'  time  when  all  my  belongings,  and 
my  person  as  well,  must  pass  into  the  custody 
of  my  pursuer. 

"  It  is  all  right,  since  I  know  you/'  said  the 
Captain.  "  Give  it  to  me  as  soon  as  it  is  con 
venient."  Then  the  official  came  in  to  break 
fast — the  only  man  I  feared  in  all  the  world. 
We  were  introduced,  but  he  did  not  betray  any 
peculiar  interest  in  me,  and  thereafter  we  chat 
ted  at  our  meal-time  meetings  as  if  there  was 
nothing  whatever,  except  agreeable  acquaint 
anceship,  between  us. 

At  Helsingfors,  in  Finland,  the  sun  had  set, 
and  the  night  was  moonless  and  cloudy.  The 
darkness  soon  became  intense.  When  the  ship 
turned  to  make  the  harbor,  Inspector  Denisov 
touched  me  upon  the  shoulder  and  said : 

"  You  will  go  ashore  here.  I  have  had  your 
luggage  put  on  deck.  Though  you  have  no 
passport,  I  will  answer  for  you  to  the  police." 

I  turned  and,  walking  across  the  ship  and 
then  the  whole  length  of  it  to  the  stern,  sprang 
199 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

overboard  without  a  notion  of  what  I  was  go 
ing  to  do  if  I  should  have  the  good-fortune  to 
save  myself  from  drowning.  I  merely  took  the 
precaution  to  see  that  no  one  was  looking  or 
was  near  by.  Being  an  excellent  swimmer,  I 
struck  out  boldly,  and  directed  my  strokes  tow 
ards  the  dark  shore  beside  the  lights  of  Hel- 
singsfors,  many  miles  away — perhaps  farther 
than  a  man  should  try  to  swim. 

"  Why  so  fast  ?"  I  heard,  in  the  voice  of 
Denisov,  behind  me  on  the  water.  "  Can  we 
not  swim  together  for  company's  sake  ?" 

I  was  startled  and  mortified  to  find  that  he 
was  still  pursuing  me,  and  in  this  fashion,  so 
desperate  for  him  as  well  as  for  me.  I  made  no 
reply,  nor  did  I  moderate  my  strokes. 

"  This  is  not  at  all  a  Russian  bath,"  he  called 
again.  "  Don't  you  find  it  cold  ?" 

I  would  not  answer  him.  I  swam  on  and  on, 
and  hearing  no  more  from  him  after  half  an 
hour  had  passed,  was  hopeful — I  confess  it — 
that  he  had  taken  a  cramp  and  gone  down. 
After  several  minutes  more  of  sturdy  swimming 
I  saw  a  long  black  hulk  rising  above  the  water 
before  me.  I  swam  to  it,  found  a  rope  hang 
ing  down  to  the  water's  edge,  and  clambered 
up  the  steel  side  of  the  vessel,  to  find  myself 
on  the  deck  of  a  torpedo-boat.  When  I  stood 
200 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

upright  a  man  in  naval  uniform  came  up  out 
of  a  round  hole  in  the  deck  and  endeavored  to 
talk  with  me.  While  he  and  I  were  trying  to 
understand  each  other  a  cry  in  Russian,  coming 
from  the  water  beside  the  vessel,  interrupted  us. 
It  was  Denisov's  voice.  The  man  in  uniform 
pulled  him  up  on  the  deck,  and  there  he  and  I 
stood  once  more  face  to  face — like  me  and  my 
problem  how  to  escape. 

Denisov  addressed  himself  with  authority  to 
the  naval  man,  who  touched  his  hat  with  ser 
vility  and  disappeared  between-decks. 

"  There  is  only  one  other  man  on  board," 
Denisov  said  to  me ;  "  but  fortunately  this  one 
is  an  engineer  and  the  other  is  a  stoker  or  fire 
man.  This  is  a  new  vessel  on  its  trial  trip. 
It  has  not  yet  been  delivered  to  the  government, 
but  I  have  asserted  my  authority,  since  it  is  a 
Eussian  vessel,  and  we  are  to  be  taken  to  the 
town.  It  is  better  than  swimming.  Will  you 
go  forward  to  the  officers'  quarters  ?" 

"  I  will  stay  here,"  I  replied. 

"  As  you  please,"  said  he.  "  I  think  I  will 
follow  your  example,  since  there  is  no  one  else 
to  steer  the  boat.  I  advise  you  to  go  below. 
You  will  be  ill  if  you  do  not  go  out  of  this 
raw  wind." 

"  I  may  as  well  surrender  to  you,"  I  said ; 
201 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

and  I  noticed  that  as  I  spoke  a  tremor  ran 
through  the  vessel,  betokening  the  beginning  of 
the  movement  of  the  engine. 

"  You  are  wise,"  he  answered.  "  I  wish  I 
could  promise  you  something  more  agreeable 
than  Siberia.  Still,  if  you  have  not  seen  that 
country  it  may  be  as  well  to  have  a  look  at  it." 

"  You  carry  too  many  guns  for  me,  as  we  say 
in  America,"  I  replied;  and  I  felt  the  vessel 
quiver  and  shake,  and  heard  the  screw  splashing 
in  the  water  behind  me. 

Denisov,  put  somewhat  more  at  ease  by  my 
declaration  of  helplessness,  tugged  at  his  sop 
ping  clothes  to  get  at  his  cigarettes  and  find 
whether  by  any  chance  one  of  them  was  smok- 
able.  While  he  was  awkwardly  wrenching  at 
his  hand  to  release  it  from  his  wet  pocket,  I 
leaped  forward  and,  planting  both  hands  upon 
his  shoulders,  flung  him  back  into  the  gulf.  At 
the  same  instant  I  ran  to  the  wheel  and,  putting 
it  hard  about,  turned  the  vessel  in  a  sharp 
curve  out  to  sea  and  westward  towards  Sweden 
— and  freedom.  The  engineer  was  not  putting 
on  the  headway  that  I  required,  so  I  ran  down 
the  light  ladderlike  companionway  and  yelled 
to  him:  "  Politseiskoi  govovite  skorei;  mukha 
— poshol  skorei,"  a  barbarous  effort  to  say  that 
the  police  officer  bade  him  hurry,  fly,  go  faster. 
202 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

"  Da,  da,"  said  the  engineer,  and  the  narrow 
wedge  of  a  boat  leaped  ahead  almost  like  a  fly 
ing-fish,  now  partly  above  the  little  waves,  now 
washing  her  foremost  half  in  the  water  she 
threw  up  ahead,  and  all  the  time  throbbing  as 
if  she  would  loosen  the  plates  which  sheathed 
her  sides. 

Successful  as  my  bold  effort  for  freedom  at 
all  hazards  had  thus  far  proved,  I  was  far  from 
confident  that  it  could  be  carried  out  to  the  end. 
I  knew  that  if  there  was  a  war-ship  at  any  port 
on  the  coast  between  me  and  the  Baltic,  it  would 
be  ordered  by  telegraph  to  capture  me,  and  con 
sidering  the  powerful  search-lights  which  all 
such  vessels  carry,  how  could  I  hope  to  escape  ? 
True,  my  boat  could  steam  faster  than  a  battle 
ship,  but  a  well-aimed  shot  would  bring  me  to 
terms,  if  not  to  the  bottom.  And  then  there 
was  the  engineer!  It  would  require  nearly 
seven  hours  of  steaming  at  the  highest  speed,  to 
reach  the  other  side  of  the  sea,  and  this  man 
was  only  ordered  to  go  to  Helsingfors,  close  by. 
In  a  few  minutes  he  would  come  up  on  deck 
to  see  why  we  had  not  ordered  him  to  slow 
down  or  stop.  He  would  find  himself  at  sea. 
What  then?  I  could  not  answer  that  question. 
I  kept  my  place  at  the  wheel  and  trusted  to 
luck  —  or  pluck,  whichever  would  serve  best. 
203 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

As  I  had  expected,  presently  the  engineer  came 
on  deck.  He  asked  me  in  pantomime  and  in 
Russian  where  the  police  officer  was.  I  pointed 
below.  He  looked  about  him  at  the  sea  and 
went  back  to  his  engine,  puzzled  and  shaking  his 
head. 

"  He  will  come  up  again,"  I  said  to  myself, 
"  and  I  will  throw  him  down  and  tie  him,  leav 
ing  the  engine  to  run  itself.  But  where  shall 
I  get  a  rope  ?" 

The  vessel  leaped  onward  as  fast  as  ever 
boat  ploughed  sea  on  earth,  and  I  stood  at  the 
wheel  straining  my  eyes  for  men-of-war  or  head 
lands  or  moving  vessels  in  our  path.  I  fancied 
I  heard  a  human  cry,  but,  as  it  was  not  repeated, 
felt  certain  that  I  had  been  mistaken. 

In  time  I  thought  of  the  rope  by  which  I 
had  pulled  myself  aboard  the  boat.  "  The  very 
thing  I  want,"  thought  I,  and,  opening  my 
pocket-knife  to  cut  it  with,  I  went  to  look  for 
it,  feeling  the  edge  of  the  boat  with  one  hand 
as  I  made  my  own  way  on  hands  and  knees. 
In  the  inky  darkness  I  could  not  see  two  feet 
before  me,  yet  I  did  distinguish  something  of 
lighter  hue  than  the  atmosphere  on  the  edge  of 
the  deck.  I  reached  out  and  felt — a  human 
hand 

I  passed  my  own  hand  over  the  side  and 
204 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

felt  the  sleeve  of  a  tautened  arm  below  the 
hand.  Grasping  it  with  both  of  my  hands,  and 
pulling  with  all  my  might,  I  felt  the  owner  of 
the  arm  assisting  me,  and  in  another  moment 
I  had  him  so  that  he  got  a  knee  on  the  deck 
and  was  saved.  I  flashed  my  pocket-lamp  in 
his  face.  It  was  Denisov.  He  tried  to  stand, 
but  when  I  pulled  him  upon  his  feet  he  fainted 
and  fell  in  my  arms.  I  dragged  him  to  the 
middle  of  the  deck,  and,  after  steadying  the 
vessel's  course,  crept  to  the  side  again  and  cut 
off  the  rope  by  which  he  had  evidently  clung 
to  the  vessel  ever  since  we  started.  Then,  long 
and  hard,  but  wholly  in  vain,  I  tried  to  revive 
him.  As  he  was  warm  and  breathing,  I  ran 
below  and  fetched  up  two  blankets.  Aifter 
rolling  him  up  in  one  and  using  the  other  as 
a  pillow  under  his  head,  there  seemed  nothing 
more  to  be  done  for  him.  During  the  time 
spent  in  all  this  work  we  passed  close  beside 
two  sailing-ships,  half  a  mile  apart,  but  were 
not  noticed  by  the  people  aboard  either  one. 

An  hour  must  have  passed  before  the  en 
gineer  came  on  deck  again.  This  time  he  was 
disturbed  and  vociferous.  He  signalled  to  me 
that  Denisov  was  nowhere  below.  I  flashed  my 
light  in  the  police  official's  face  and  made  signs 
that  he  was  asleep.  The  mere  glimpse  which 
205 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

lie  got  of  the  pallid  face  of  my  captive  caused 
the  engineer  to  suspect  that  he  was  being  de 
ceived.  He  bent  forward  to  feel  the  body,  but 
I  pushed  him  back  to  an  upright  position  and 
sternly  bade  him  return  to  his  post.  He  turned 
sullenly,  and  as  he  was  lowering  his  body  into 
the  opening  in  the  deck  I  sprang  forward,  pass 
ed  the  rope  under  and  around  his  arms,  and 
pinioned  them  securely  behind  his  back.  Then 
I  assisted  him  down  the  ladder  by  holding  the 
collar  of  his  coat,  and,  following  him  to  the  en 
gine-room,  pressed  the  muzzle  of  my  revolver 
against  his  forehead  as  a  hint  of  what  would  be 
fall  him  should  he  cause  me  any  trouble. 

For  at  least  another  hour  the  boat  sped  on 
and  I  kept  her  to  her  course  without  further 
adventure.  Then  the  engineer  called  to  me  and 
begged  me,  with  much  groaning,  to  untie  his 
arms.  I  did  so,  and  with  an  alacrity  that  im 
pressed  me  he  sprang  to  the  engine  and  manipu 
lated  certain  of  its  levers  and  faucets.  I  un 
derstood,  from  the  signs  and  motions  he  sub 
sequently  made,  that  he  desired  to  impress  me 
with  the  necessity  for  his  being  free  to  use  his 
hands  in  running  the  engine.  He  promised  full 
obedience  and  the  highest  speed  the  engine 
could  make.  Greatly  eased  in  mind,  I  left 
him,  carrying  my  rope  with  me.  But  on  deck 
206 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

I  found  Denisov  moving  restlessly  and  regain 
ing  consciousness. 

When  I  spoke  to  him  he  said  he  was  dead. 

"  Forgive  my  sins,"  he  groaned ;  "  I  was 
drowned  at  sea  and  there  was  no  priest." 

It  was  with  great  difficulty  that  I  made  him 
understand  that  he  was  alive  and  safe,  but  that 
I  would  not  hesitate  to  throw  him  overboard 
again  unless  he  acknowledged  that  the  tables 
were  turned  and  he  had  become  my  prisoner. 

"  You  have  saved  my  life,"  he  said.  "  I  will 
not  put  a  straw  in  your  way  after  this.  Let 
me  go  below  and  get  into  bed." 

"  !N"o,"  said  I,  on  second  thoughts,  "  I  will 
not  trust  you.  You  have  your  duty  to  your 
Czar  to  perform  and  that  is  above  everything 
— even  above  truth  and  honor — with  you  Rus 
sians.  If  you  attempt  to  go  below,  if  you  even 
attempt  to  get  on  your  feet,  I  swear  I  will  kill 

you." 

"  You  are  right,"  he  said.  "  I  will  be  frank 
with  you  because  you  are  brave,  and  I  owe  you 
thanks  for  taking  me  on  board.  I  would  break 
any  oath  if  I  could  get  a  chance  to  take  you  back 
to  Russia.  ~Now  I  will  beg  one  favor.  If  we 
are  overhauled  by  a  Russian  war-ship,  promise 
to  tie  my  hands  so  that  it  shall  be  seen  that 
you  overpowered  me." 

207 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  I  will  tie  them  now,"  said  I.  "  Eoll  over  on 
your  stomach  and  put  your  hands  behind  you." 

He  obeyed.  I  pinioned  him,  as  I  had  done 
with  the  engineer — like  a  fowl  made  ready  for 
the  oven.  As  I  straightened  back  to  an  upright 
posture  I  drew  a  long  breath  and  almost  shout 
ed.  I  believed  myself  sure  of  regaining  my 
freedom. 

On  and  on,  ceaselessly,  like  a  bullet  skimming 
the  sea,  the  arrowlike  vessel  shot  forward,  kick 
ing  the  water  behind  it  with  its  whirling  foot. 
Hours  passed — hours  that  were  like  days  to  me 
— and  still  we  skimmed  along.  At  what  I 
thought  was  Hango,  but  what  must  have  been 
a  port  of  the  Aland  Islands,  I  saw  a  search 
light  flashing,  streaming,  sweeping  the  sea  in 
the  distance  behind  me.  It  never  once  was 
turned  in  my  direction,  and  I  believe  that  the 
men  who  manipulated  it  did  not  imagine  that 
my  boat  could  have  already  passed  them. 

Gray  came  tingeing  the  east,  and  a  faint 
cloudlike  wall  of  distant  land  was  becoming 
vaguely  distinguishable  a  few  miles  ahead, 
when  I  noticed  that  the  engine  was  slowing  up. 
The  engineer  came  on  deck  and,  after  touching 
his  cap  in  token  of  his  respect,  held  out  both 
hands  with  a  gesture  of  despair.  I  bade  Denisov 

question  him. 

208 


MY    BORROWED    TORPEDO-BOAT 

"The  fuel  has  run  out/'  said  he.  "The 
engine  will  stop  in  a  few  minutes.  The  en 
gineer  says  he  sees  land  ahead  and  asks  if  it 
is  the  Alands." 

"  It  must  be,"  I  replied. 

"  You  have  done  bravely,"  said  Denisov ; 
"  but  you  have  lost.  I  shall  have  the  pleasure 
of  your  company  all  the  way  back  again." 

As  he  spoke  my  quick  ears  caught  the  sound 
of  a  steamer's  screw  in  the  distance.  I  ordered 
the  engineer  below  and  scanned  the  sea.  The 
engine  stopped  while  I  was  looking  and  listen 
ing,  and  we  began  to  crawl  through  the  water. 
We  were  headed  directly  for  a  wooded  shore 
and  were  not  above  a  mile  from  it.  After 
looking  at  it  intently  for  a  few  moments  I 
turned  and  saw  the  black  mountainous  hulk  of 
a  great  ship  breaking  through  the  morning  gray- 
ness. 

"  Go  below  instantly,"  I  said  to  Denisov,  and, 
lifting  him  to  his  feet,  I  almost  pushed  him 
down  the  hole  in  the  deck.  I  was  sure  that  he 
had  heard  and  seen  nothing  of  the  ship  which 
was  bearing  down  on  us,  and  I  wanted  him  out 
of  the  way  lest  we  should  be  hailed  in  Russian 
and  he  should  answer  in  my  place. 

We  crawled  on,  and  the  black  monster  shot 
ahead  and  passed  us.  I  hoped  we  had  not  been 
209 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

seen — we  were  so  small  and  low  in  the  water — 
but  presently  I  heard  a  confusion  of  voices  on 
the  great  ship's  deck,  and  next  I  saw  her  side 
lights  coming  into  view.  My  craft  had  been 
discovered  and  my  pursuer  was  turning  to  over 
haul  it. 

When  I  was  certain  that  this  was  the  case  I 
slipped  overboard  and  began  to  swim  for  the 
shore,  now  not  half  a  mile  away.  I  heard  the 
torpedo-boat  hailed  while  I  swam.  From  the 
beach  I  could  see  a  small  boat  put  out  from 
the  ship  and  move  towards  the  torpedo-boat.  At 
the  same  instant  the  morning  mist  thinned 
around  the  ship,  and  I  saw  that  she  was  a  bat 
tle-ship  flying  the  French  flag. 

With  fear  spurring  my  heels,  I  plunged  into 
the  woods  and  ran.  It  was  evening  before  I 
came  to  a  town  and  found  that  I  was  in 
Sweden. 


XIV 
THE    LOST   VOICE 

In    the    Depths    of    the    Sea 

IT  was  neither  pearls  nor  treasure-trove  that 
tempted  me,  but  that  which  sends  men  to 
freeze  under  the  arctic  sun,  to  burn  in  African 
jungles,  to  starve  on  Siberian  wastes — the  love 
of  science.  To  add  to  the  sum  of  the  world's 
knowledge;  to  make  life  endurable  where  be 
fore  existence  only  was  possible ;  to  strive  with 
out  certainty  of  reward ;  to  brave  death  under  a 
thousand  terrors — these  are  the  endeavors  and 
these  the  hazards  of  the  scientist. 

When  Morley  incredulously  asserted  it  could 
not  be  done,  I  contended  as  stoutly  that  it 
could. 

"  Only  give  me  three  months,  Professor 
Dale,"  I  urged — for  I  could  talk  then,  like 
other  men;  now  I  can  only  whisper,  and  that 
with  much  difficulty  — "  only  give  me  time 
enough  to  construct  my  armor.  I  will  descend 
is  211 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

not  only  five  hundred  feet,  but  twice  five  hun 
dred." 

"  Descend  you  may,"  put  in  Morley,  "  but 
you'll  never  come  up  again." 

"  There  you  are  wrong,  my  dear  Morley," 
observed  the  professor,  reflectively.  "  The  real 
difficulty  is  to  get  down.  Once  down,  the  ques 
tion  of  pulling  him  up  is  comparatively 
simple — " 

"  You  mean  dead  or  alive,"  I  suggested, 
facetiously. 

"  Quite  right,"  assented  the  professor ;  "  that 
is  just  what  I  mean — dead  or  alive." 

"  But  will  you  let  me  try  it,  professor  ?"  I 
pleaded,  as  the  three  of  us  left  the  restaurant 
and  started  towards  the  Institution. 

"  I  am  curious  to  see  what  sort  of  a  suit  you 
will  contrive  for  the  purpose,"  mused  the  pro 
fessor,  gently,  sniffing  a  new  material  wonder, 
like  the  enthusiastic  old  scientific  dog  that  he 
was.  "  We  sail  in  three  months ;  if  you  can  get 
your  apparatus  into  shape  by  that  time,  we 
will  take  it  along,  anyway.  I  shall  have  to 
limit  you  to  about  a  thousand  dollars  for  get 
ting  it  up — you  know  our  entire  appropriation 
is  not  overlarge,"  said  Professor  Dale,  revert 
ing  to  the  business  end  of  the  proposal.  "  But, 
Frederic,"  he  continued,  relapsing  into  one  of 
212 


THE    LOST    VOICE 

his  gentle  rhapsodies,  as  he  gazed  mildly  at  the 
big  white  dome  of  the  Capitol  ahead,  "  if  you 
succeed,  your  name  will  outlast  old  Smithson's 
itself.  A  thousand  feet,"  he  mused,  greedily — 
as  most  men  would  muse  over  "  a  million  dol 
lars  " — "  a  thousand  feet.  I  would  rather  be 
the  man  to  walk  on  the  ocean-bed  a  thousand 
feet  in  depth  below  than  be  President  of  these 
glorious  United  States." 

It  was  a  way  the  old  gentleman  had — a  way 
by  which  he  fired  us  and  set  us  wild  to  em 
bark  in  any  desperate  enterprise  which  promised 
fame. 

When  he  spoke  I  thought  as  he  did.  And 
now  ?  Well — I  don't  know ;  but  I  have  at  least 
this  consolation:  There  are  many  great  men 
alive ;  but  there  is  only  one  man  living  who  has 
counted  a  thousand  feet  of  sea-water  above  his 
head — and  I  am  that  man. 

Morley  said  I  never  would  live  to  tell  the 
tale;  and  he  was  right — I  never  did.  But  I 
can  hold  a  pen  as  well  as  the  next,  and  so  may 
write  the  tale  I  cannot  tell. 

Morley  and  I  were  attaches  of  the  Smith 
sonian  Institution.  Professor  Dale  was  the 
head  of  our  division.  "No  wonder  we  were  en 
thusiasts.  We  counted  our  Institution  the  most 

glorious  on  earth.     Any  one  of  the  scores  of 
213 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

young  men  who  labored  in  it  would  have  held 
his  life  cheap  if  by  giving  it  up  the  name  of 
the  Smithsonian  might  shine  brighter  in  sci 
ence's  domain. 

Morley,  my  chum,  a  New  York  boy — he  was 
really  no  more — was  as  deeply  imbued  with 
this  loyalty  as  anybody.  He  had,  indeed,  only 
one  passion  besides  his  love  for  reptilia — that 
was  for  bananas;  harmless  enough  in  itself, 
yet  of  singularly  unhappy  consequence  to  me, 
as  you  shall  see.  Morley,  I  am  persuaded, 
would  have  laid  down  his  life  for  the  Smith 
sonian.  Yet  had  he  been  obliged  to  choose  be 
tween  abandoning  the  Institution  or  giving  up 
bananas,  I  fear  we  should  have  lost  a  valuable 
scientist. 

The  government  had  just  placed  at  our  dis 
posal  a  man-of-war — the  Gladiator — for  an  ex 
pedition  to  the  South  Sea  islands.  Incidentally 
Professor  Dale,  detailed  in  charge,  was  desir 
ous  of  investigating  deep-sea  life  in  the  Pacific, 
least  known  and  noblest  of  our  oceans.  It  was 
in  this  research  that  I  proposed  to  aid  him  by 
an  undertaking  so  extraordinary  that  many 
there  were  who  looked  on  me  as  no  less  than  a 
madman  to  attempt  it.  But  when  did  scepti 
cism  or  ridicule  ever  deter  the  true  disciple  of 
science  ? 

214 


THE    LOST    VOICE 

I  believed  that  I  could  construct  a  diving- 
suit — an  armor,  in  fact — which  would  enable 
me  to  descend  to  depths  of  the  ocean  never  be 
fore  penetrated  by  man,  and  thus  obtain  speci 
mens  of  organic  life  hitherto  unknown  to  sci 
ence.  The  idea  was  bold,  yet  the  ablest  men 
whom  I  consulted  did  not  condemn  it  as  pre 
posterous,  as  my  correspondence  still  shows; 
and  when  Professor  Dale  gave  me  leave,  I  went 
to  work  vigorously  to  make  ready  for  the 
venture. 

The  time  was  short,  and  my  first  efforts  dis 
couraging.  I  consulted  every  builder  of  diving- 
suits  in  the  country;  but  when  I  told  them  I 
required  an  armor  to  sustain  the  terrific  pressure 
of  the  sea  at  the  depth  of  a  thousand  feet  they 
threw  up  their  hands. 

In  the  end  I  was  compelled  to  construct  it 
myself,  and  in  this  endeavor  I  certainly  made 
marked  advances  on  anything  previously  at 
tained  in  the  line  of  diving-suits.  One  thing 
alone  gave  me  serious  trouble — the  glass  bull's- 
eye  for  my  helmet. 

I  spent  nearly  a  month  of  my  precious  three 
in  Pittsburg  working  on  bull's-eyes. 

"  I  must  have  a  glass,"  I  said,  "  which  will 
withstand  the  pressure  of  twenty  atmospheres." 

One  glass-maker  alone  would  talk  to  me. 
215 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"  I  can  make  it,"  he  said,  quietly,  "  if  you 
can  test  it." 

"  Then  go  ahead." 

"  First  convince  me  that  you  can  test  it,"  he 
rejoined.  "  How  will  you  do  it  2" 

"  With  a  sledge-hammer." 

He  paused  a  moment,  but  he  saw  the  force 
of  the  suggestion;  the  trial  began. 

For  four  weeks  skilled  workmen  turned  out 
lenses  of  unheard-of  strength  and  tenacity.  One 
after  another  they  were  shivered  into  pieces 
under  my  sledge.  But  stoutly  persevering,  they 
made  at  last  a  lens  which  even  the  blow  of  an 
eight-pound  hammer  could  not  fracture.  In 
twenty-four  hours  I  was  ready,  and  none  too 
soon.  That  very  night,  slipping  her  anchor, 
the  Gladiator  steamed  down  the  Potomac  for 
her  long  cruise. 

A  good  while  before  we  reached  our  distant 
destination  I  had  perfected  the  details  of  my 
descent.  Every  day  I  went  over  the  points  with 
Professor  Dale  and  my  fellow-worker  Morley. 
Into  his  hands  I  proposed  to  commit  entire 
charge  of  the  arrangements  for  my  safety  while 
under  the  sea.  Professor  Dale  and  Morley,  it 
is  true,  were  interested  in  many  things;  I  in 
but  one.  A  successful  descent  in  my  steel  and 
glass  shell  would  revolutionize  deep-sea  diving. 
216 


THE    LOST    VOICE 

The  risk,  indeed,  was  tremendous,  but  the  in 
centive  inspiring. 

So  thoroughly  had  I  gone  over  my  plans  that 
by  the  time  we  rounded  the  Horn  I  was  not 
only  confident  of  success,  but  impatient  for  the 
fateful  day  to  arrive.  The  whole  crew  were 
interested  in  my  undertaking.  What  they 
couldn't  understand  was,  why  I  was  willing 
to  court  so  strange  a  death  merely  to  secure  a 
bucketful  of  ooze  from  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 
Ooze,  it  is  true — but  such  ooze!  Ooze  which 
the  eye  of  man  had  never  yet  seen  in  appreci 
able  quantities.  Ooze  teeming  with  a  million 
forms  of  life  which  no  microscope  had  ever  yet 
revealed,  which  no  scientist  had  ever  yet  de 
scribed.  The  game  was  appalling,  but  the  stake 
dazzling. 

Towards  the  end  even  Morley  became  in 
fected. 

"  Hanged  if  I  don't  wish  I  was  going  down 
myself,"  he  admitted,  when  at  last  the  day 
came. 

We  lay  off  the  coast  of  one  of  the  countless 
smaller  islands  of  the  Navigator  group.  That 
morning  the  sea  lay  outspread  like  a  vast  mir 
ror.  The  sun  had  barely  peeped  over  the  cocoa- 
nut-trees  to  the  east  of  us  when  I  gave  Morley 
my  last  instructions,  bade  everybody  good-bye, 
217 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

and  stepped  into  my  armor.  On  the  main-deck 
the  Captain  had  rigged  up  a  pony-engine  to 
supply  my  air-pump ;  a  small  dynamo  was  belt 
ed  to  it  to  provide  me  with  light. 

Morley  had  charge  of  the  engine;  my  last 
words  were  to  him: 

"  If  you  ever  expect  to  see  me  alive  again, 
my  dear  Morley,  watch  the  air-supply.  I'm 
ready ;  close  the  slide ;  tell  the  boys  not  to  pay 
out  too  fast — not  over  a  foot  a  second.  Good 
bye." 

I  felt  the  jerk  of  the  tackle  as  I  was  swung 
over  the  rail,  and  perceived  almost  instantly 
by  the  fading  of  the  light  that  I  was  descending 
into  the  sea.  I  turned  on  the  electric  bulb  and 
realized  that  I  was  an  awe-inspiring  intruder 
into  the  submarine  world.  Strange  fishes, 
reptiles  of  hideous  proportions,  and  monsters  of 
horrid  shape  stared  in  vague  and  awful  silence 
at  me  as  I  gradually  sank  below  them.  A 
colossal  shark  rubbed  fondly  against  my  bull's- 
eye,  as  if  he  fain  would  know  more  of  the 
kernel  of  this  strange  shell.  But  I  gave  the 
bravo  little  heed ;  if  he  nipped  at  me  he  would 
have  aching  jaws  to  nurse  for  his  pains;  my 
armor  bristled  with  steel  spikes. 

I  was  fast   descending  to   deeps  where  no 

shark  could  live,  because  of  the  mere  pressure 
218 


THE    LOST    VOICE 

of  the  sea.  By  the  watch  which  hung  suspend 
ed  in  front  of  my  eye,  five  minutes  had  passed 
since  the  water  closed  over  me.  I  estimated 
that  I  was  already  300  feet  down — a  third 
deeper  than  diver  had  ever  before  penetrated. 

Our  previous  soundings  at  this  point — chosen 
with  reference  to  them — had  indicated  bottom 
at  170  fathoms.  The  enormous  pressure  of  110 
pounds  to  the  square  inch  on  the  tiny  gauge  at 
my  eye-piece  caused  me  to  realize  for  the  first 
time  the  frightful  dangers  of  my  position.  For 
an  awful  instant  I  would  have  given  the  world 
and  my  dearest  hopes  for  a  sight  of  the  sun 
once  more — much  I  doubted  I  should  ever  again 
behold  it. 

Fish  and  reptile  and  monster  were  now  far 
above  me.  Better  than  man  has  ever  known  I 
then  knew  the  stillness  of  the  ocean  depths. 
In  the  silence  which  oppressed  me  ghastly  creat 
ures — too  horrible  to  live  and  yet  living  in 
this  scene  of  dread — moved  sluggishly  in  their 
grewsome  haunts,  heedless  of  my  presence.  To 
my  deceiving  senses  it  seemed  as  if  this  com 
pany  of  misshapen  monsters  was  ever  rising 
out  of  a  bottomless  pit  before  my  startled  eyes. 
It  was  as  if  I  hung  motionless  in  the  midst  of 
an  endless  procession  of  horrors.  But  the  dead 
ly  pressure  on  the  gauge  pushed  the  pointer 
219 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

higher  on  the  dial.  My  watch,  tripping  now 
like  a  steam-hammer,  instead  of  ticking  gently 
its  accustomed  music,  warned  me  that  five  min 
utes  more  had  passed. 

I  must  now  be,  I  calculated,  600  feet  below 
the  ocean  level. 

All  at  once  the  sluggish  objects  about  me 
ceased  to  rise — in  other  words,  I  had  ceased 
to  descend.  Something  had  gone  wrong  above ; 
a  sweat  dewed  my  forehead.  Carefully  I 
breathed  the  precious  air,  fearful  of  a  present 
stoppage.  Narrowly  I  watched  the  pressure- 
gauge;  the  pointer  quivered  stationary  on  the 
dial. 

Mechanically  my  eyes  turned  to  the  watch. 
How  long  was  it  to  last?  A  minute  passed; 
then,  to  my  infinite  relief,  my  grisly  companions 
began  once  more  to  rise ;  I  was  sinking.  With 
that  certainty  all  nervousness  left  me.  I  was 
now  so  far  below  the  possibility  of  human  help 
that  peril  became  to  me  a  matter  of  indifference. 
The  springing  of  a  single  rivet  meant  instant 
death ;  even  to  that  I  had  grown  resigned.  One 
wish,  one  hope,  one  resolve,  animated  me  now 
— to  get  to  the  bottom ;  to  fill  my  steel  bucket ; 
to  signal  an  ascent.  After  that — well,  I  asked 
no  further. 

Of  a  sudden  I  was  seized  with  an  uncontrol- 
220 


THE    LOST    VOICE 

lable  curiosity  to  see  and  know  more  of  what 
was  now  around  me.  My  electric  bulb  threw 
a  hazy  light  through  a  radius  close  about  me, 
but  it  faded  into  a  darkness  which  now  became 
a  mystical  Tantalus  to  my  disordered  nerves. 
Five  minutes  more  had  passed ;  still  I  breathed 
— but  900  feet  below  the  keel  of  the  Gladiator. 
I  hung  in  the  midst  of  a  slime  which  I  could 
almost  feel  through  my  metal  coat.  Millions 
of  tiny  forms  of  marine  life,  jellylike,  impal 
pable,  still  rose  above  me.  I  looked  at  the  pres 
sure-gauge;  the  pointer  stuck  fast  at  the  limit 
— 300  pounds  to  the  square  inch ;  but  even  this 
made  no  impression  on  me.  By  the  comparative 
slowness  of  my  descent  I  knew  I  must  be  near- 
ing  bottom.  So  enormous  was  the  pressure  that 
it  practically  held  my  immense  casing  of  steel 
in  suspension.  I  floated  on  the  tremendous 
strength  of  twenty  atmospheres.  I  stuck  im 
movable  in  ooze.  Was  I  at  the  bottom  ?  I  could 
not  tell.  But  bottom  or  not,  I  well  knew  that 
the  time  had  come  to  act.  The  automatic  de 
vice  on  the  big  metal  bucket  at  my  feet  needed 
only  the  pressure  of  a  lever  to  close  it,  and  with 
the  movement  I  knew  that  my  treasure  of  slime 
and  ooze  was  secure.  I  was  beset  with  a  de 
sire  to  scream  in  triumph.  But  who  was  there 

to  hear?    Again,  as  childish  impulse  shifts,  I 
221 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

became  suddenly  frantic  to  leap  with  a  single 
bound  into  air  and  sunshine.  I  tore  open  the 
electric  circuit — it  was  my  signal  to  Morley  to 
lift  me ;  then  I  waited.  I  waited ;  but  now  in 
darkness.  In  signalling  I  had  destroyed  the 
light  above  my  head. 

It  is  a  serious  thing  to  make  a  mistake  in 
daylight,  but  infinitely  more  awful  to  make 
one  in  the  midst  of  darkness.  I  no  longer  had 
the  means  of  determining  whether  I  was  rising 
or  whether  I  hung  motionless.  My  watch,  tick 
ing  like  a  fire-bell  in  the  blackness  of  my  prison, 
only  served  to  heighten  the  disorder  of  my 
faculties. 

Times  I  felt  sure  I  was  moving — strained  my 
ears  to  catch  a  sound  from  without ;  times  again 
I  felt  I  must  be  hanging  motionless  in  my  liv 
ing  tomb.  And  was  it  now  my  imagination — 
was  my  reason  going — or  was  the  air  about  me 
becoming  foul  and  breathing  difficult? 

My  senses  wavered;  a  prayer  died  on  my 
lips.  My  brain  seemed  to  expand  with  the 
pressure  of  an  exquisite  torture.  I  choked  with 
a  nameless  fright;  I  strove  with  a  madman's 
fury  to  burst  the  steel  casing  which  alone  pro 
tected  me  from  instant  death ;  I  craved  it  now — 
death — if  only  it  came  dreamless  and  quick. 

My  fury  spent  itself  in  useless  raging ;  I  had 
222 


THE    LOST    VOICE 

builded  too  well.  But  with  my  declining 
strength  my  torture  increased.  My  ear-drums 
were  being  irresistibly  pushed  into  my  head; 
my  eyes  were  oppressed  with  crushing  weights ; 
my  tongue  swelled  in  my  throat ;  once  filled,  I 
could  no  longer  expel  the  air  from  my  lungs; 
they  seemed  distended  to  bursting.  I  realized 
that  it  was  death  creeping  slowly  over  me,  and 
with  the  dumb  agony  of  fading  consciousness 
I  beat  at  the  heavy  bull's-eye  with  uncertain 
blows.  A  consuming  thirst  devoured  me;  I 
bloated  with  a  parching  drouth ;  my  head  sank 
in  the  stagnation  of  coma.  In  a  frenzy  I  strove 
once  more  to  wrench  open  the  helmet ;  something 
burst  with  a  terrific  shock ;  I  felt  water  pouring 
into  my  throat.  The  welcome  flood  had  come, 
the  sickening  pain  had  gone,  and  with  it  went 
consciousness  and  life. 

Can  you  imagine  what  had  happened  ?  Guess 
a  thousand  times,  and  I  think  you  still  would 
miss  it. 

I  have  put  the  question  to  a  thousand  boys, 
and  now  I  put  it  to  hundreds  of  thousands; 
but  none  will  ever  guess.  What  really  happened 
was  so  trivial,  and  yet  so  fatal  in  its  conse 
quences,  that  it  seems  a  burlesque  to  explain  it. 

Morley,  I  have  told  you,  had  charge  of  the 
223 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

pony-engine  which  operated  my  air-pump  on 
deck.  Just  at  the  moment  my  cable  ceased  to 
pay  and  they  knew  I  had  reached  bottom,  ter 
rific  yells  were  heard  under  the  stern  of  the 
Gladiator. 

While  all  hands,  even  to  the  lookout,  were  in 
tently  watching  the  progress  of  affairs  on  deck, 
a  dozen  canoes  of  savages,  paddling  out  from 
shore,  unobserved,  had  run  directly  under  our 
stern,  where  they  set  up  an  unearthly  outcry. 

Instantly  the  deck  was  a  scene  of  confusion ; 
the  drummer  beat  the  call  to  arms ;  the  marines 
sprang  forward  to  repel  boarders.  Then  it 
transpired  as  suddenly  that  the  assault  was  en 
tirely  a  peaceable  one,  and  that,  far  from 
meditating  hostilities,  the  natives  had  brought 
out  a  supply  of  bananas  to  barter  for  tobacco 
and  trinkets. 

Unhappily,  as  I  have  intimated,  Morley  had 
a  weakness  for  bananas.  During  the  first  panic 
h6  did  not  lose  his  head ;  he  stuck  faithfully  to 
his  post.  But  the  minute  the  second  cry  was 
raised,  Morley,  intent  on  securing  a  desirable 
bunch  (for  us  to  eat  between  us,  as  he  sobbed  to 
me  long  afterwards),  rushed  aft  to  make  ar 
rangements  for  securing  the  pick  of  the  cargo. 

That  brief  interval  of  absence  cost  me  all 
the  torture  1  have  described,  and  more.  When 
224 


THE    LOST    VOICE 

he  hastened  back  to  his  post  the  air-gauge  on 
my  supply-hose  indicated  the  awful  pressure  of 
twenty-eight  pounds — almost  two  atmospheres. 
Morley,  sure  I  was  done  for,  fell  down  like  a 
dead  man.  In  feverish  haste  they  raised  me, 
and  then  came  the  crowning  misfortune.  In 
disengaging  the  heavy  bucket  of  ooze  while  I 
swung  above  the  rail,  a  lubberly  marine  un 
luckily  dropped  it  overboard.  Professor  Dale 
screamed;  it  was  too  late.  The  fruit  of  my 
tremendous  endeavor  sank  like  a  plumb-bob  be 
fore  his  eyes  and  still  rests  in  the  depths  of 
the  sea. 

Meantime  my  comrades  were  working  at  me. 
My  armor  proved  to  be  absolutely  intact.  They 
succeeded  at  length  in  smashing  the  visor.  I 
must  have  been  a  spectacle,  for  they  were  great 
ly  frightened. 

It  was  a  long  time  before  the  combined  ef 
forts  of  the  entire  ship's  company  of  surgeons 
were  successful  in  restoring  me  to  life.  For  an 
unknown  interval  I  had  sustained  an  atmos 
pheric  pressure  so  great  that  at  last  my  wind 
pipe  had  burst  under  it.  It  was  as  if  they  had 
sought  to  inflate  me  as  one  does  a  toy  balloon. 
The  effusion  of  blood  after  the  rupture  of  my 
trachea  had  seemed  like  water  rushing  into  my 
throat.  Since  that  day  I  have  never  been  able 
225 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

to  speak  a  loud  word.  Thanks  to  careful  sur 
gery,  I  can  whisper;  but  the  power  to  speak  is 
gone. 

Ever  since  then  Morley  has  endeavored  to 
atone  for  his  one  moment  of  thoughtlessness  by 
unremitting  devotion  to  me ;  but  the  sight  of  a 
bunch  of  bananas  even  now  throws  me  into  a 
cold  sweat. 

Again  I  am  shrouded  in  the  gloom  of  the 
ocean  depths;  again  I  suffocate  with  an  ex 
cess  of  air ;  in  imagination  the  pains  of  strangu 
lation  overpower  me,  and  I  turn  to  Morley  in 
a  faint. 

Professor  Dale  still  bemoans  the  irreparable 
loss  of  the  ooze;  but  personally  I  have  never 
felt  any  uncontrollable  desire  to  go  down  after 
another  sample. 


XV 

JOE   GRIFFIN'S  GREAT  JUMP 
In  the  Service  of  Japan 


"  T^HE  Marshal  would  give  a  foot  to  get  the 

1     plans  of  that  fort." 

"  I  know  it,  and  I  wish  we  could  wipe  his 
eye  by  getting  them  for  him." 

The  speakers  were  Hikoichi  Len  and  Matsada 
Orita,  two  junior  officers  on  the  Japanese  cruis 
er  Yed-Sin.  For  several  weeks  during  the  war 
between  China  and  Japan  the  vessel  had  been 
cruising  in  the  waters  off  Port  Arthur,  await 
ing  the  decisive  moment  when  the  army  was 
to  effect  a  combination  with  the  navy  in  an 
attempt  to  capture  that  important  stronghold. 
All  that  the  plans  now  lacked  of  completion 
was  the  knowledge  of  the  interior  arrangements 
of  a  certain  fort,  the  most  formidable  of  those 
which  guarded  the  entrance  to  the  harbor. 

The  sun  was  sinking  red  and  threatening, 
sending  long  wavering  streams  of  crimson  across 
16  227 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

the  undulating  surface  of  the  sea.  The  crim 
son  rays  fell  upon  the  polished  brass-work  of 
the  Yed-Sin  and  made  it  gleam  like  iron  in  the 
forge,  while  they  lit  up  the  dark  shiny  chases 
of  her  guns  with  a  fitful  glare.  The  cruiser 
was  rolling  uneasily  as  she  slipped  slowly  along 
at  a  four-knot  gait.  She  was  waiting  within 
signalling-distance  of  the  shore  for  a  communi 
cation  from  a  party  that  had  heen  sent  ashore 
to  try  to  get  a  message  through  to  the  advance 
column  of  the  army. 

"  I  fear  that  the  expedition  will  be  a  fail 
ure,"  said  Len. 

"  Why  ?"  asked  Orita. 

"  Because  that  young  American  is  with  it." 

"  Oh,  Griffin  ?  Well,  he  is  a  little  too  bold  in 
his  ventures,  but  somehow  he  has  a  faculty  of 
landing  on  his  feet." 

"  Hello !  There  goes  a  green  rocket.  That 
means  that  the  party  is  in  trouble." 

It  was  true.  Away  over  on  the  land  some 
miles  back  of  Port  Arthur  a  green  rocket  had 
soared  into  the  air.  The  next  instant  the  en 
gine  -  room  bells  clanged  and  the  Yed  -  Sin's 
propellers  turned  up  to  full  speed.  As  the 
cruiser  gathered  headway  the  bugles  sounded, 
"  Arm  and  away  for  distant  service,"  meaning 
that  a  landing  party  was  to  be  sent  out  to  the 

228 


JOE    GRIFFIN'S    GREAT    JUMP 

rescue.  For  several  minutes  there  was  a  gen 
eral  bustle  about  the  deck  as  some  men  went 
to  their  stations  and  others  hastened  to  provide 
the  necessary  equipments  for  the  boats.  The 
cruiser,  meanwhile,  steamed  steadily  ahead, 
and  in  the  course  of  half  an  hour  was  within 
a  mile  of  the  shore.  Here  she  came  to  a  stop, 
and  orders  were  given  to  lower  away  the  boats. 
At  that  instant  a  red  rocket  shot  up  from  the 
beach. 

"  Avast  there !"  cried  the  executive  officer. 
"  Keep  fast  with  the  boats." 

The  red  rocket  meant  that  the  signal  party 
had  escaped  and  was  coming  off.  Rapid  firing 
of  small-arms  followed  the  ascent  of  the  rocket, 
but  it  ceased  in  a  few  minutes,  and  all  was 
silent,  till  the  puffing  of  the  steam-launch  which 
had  taken  the  party  in  was  heard.  Two  or  three 
minutes  later  the  party  came  aboard,  and  the 
officer  in  charge  of  it  reported  that  all  had  es 
caped  except  the  American  cadet,  Griffin,  who 
had  resigned  from  the  United  States  navy  to 
enter  that  of  Japan. 

"  We  were  in  a  deep  ravine,  well  sheltered  by 
woods,"  he  said,  "  and  were  making  our  way 
cautiously,  when  I  heard  a  suspicious  sound  to 
our  left.  I  knew  that  the  army  column  was  a 
long  distance  away  on  our  right,  and  so  I  or- 
229 


THE  BATTLE  FOR  THE  PACIFIC 

dered  every  one  to  keep  the  strictest  silence.  I 
was  endeavoring  to  select  a  suitable  man  to  send 
forward  to  reconnoitre  when  I  missed  Griffin. 
I  remembered,  then,  that  he  had  always  burned 
for  an  opportunity  for  personal  distinction,  and 
I  was  sure  that  he  had  slipped  away  to  make 
observations  on  his  own  account.  I  foresaw 
the  result,  and  at  once  gave  orders  to  retreat  as 
quietly  as  possible  to  the  boat.  My  conclusion 
was  justified  five  minutes  later,  when  a  shot 
was  heard  in  our  rear  and  fire  was  opened  on 
us.  If  we  had  remained  in  the  ravine  we 
would  have  been  captured.  As  for  Griffin,  I 
am  sure  he  walked  right  into  the  arms  of  the 
enemy." 

The  officer  was  commended  for  his  judgment 
and  energy.  The  executive  officer  frowned 
when  he  mentioned  Griffin's  name  and  then 
shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"  I  don't  wonder  he  shrugs  his  shoulders," 
said  Len. 

"  Nor  I,"  responded  Orita.  "  We  shall  never 
see  the  unhappy  American  boy  again." 

Joe  Griffin,  with  his  hands  tied  behind  his 
back  and  a  bandage  over  his  eyes,  had  just  come 
to  a  similar  conclusion.  He  had,  indeed,  walk 
ed  straight  into  the  arms  of  a  party  of  Chinese 
scouts  sent  out  to  watch  the  Japanese  landing- 
230 


JOE    GRIFFIN'S    GREAT    JUMP 

party.  If  he  had  not  left  his  companions,  they 
might  have  passed  the  scouts  unnoticed  in  the 
darkness.  Now  the  landing  expedition  had 
failed,  and  he  was  being  led  over  roots  and 
rocks,  a  prisoner.  He  had  no  idea  where  he 
was  going,  but  he  felt  pretty  sure  that  he  would 
never  come  back,  for  the  Chinese  had  an  un 
pleasant  way  of  murdering  prisoners  taken,  as 
he  was,  on  the  pretext  that  they  were  spies. 
For  two  hours  the  rough  march  continued,  and 
then  Joe  heard  the  challenge  of  sentries  and 
was  aware  that  they  were  entering  an  armed 
post.  Day  was  breaking,  and  when  the  bandage 
was  removed  from  his  eyes  he  saw  in  the  brief 
time  he  had  that  he  was  inside  of  a  strong  fort. 
A  hasty  glance  through  an  embrasure  showed 
him  the  sea,  and,  far  away  upon  the  horizon, 
the  sharply  outlined  form  of  the  Yed-Sin. 

"  Great  Scott !"  he  exclaimed,  mentally. 
"  I'm  in  the  very  fort  of  which  they  want  the 
plans  so  badly !"  Bancroft  Library 

He  had  no  further  time  for  thought,  for  they 
led  him  to  his  prison.  It  was  a  simple  kind  of 
jail.  It  was  a  rude  wooden  hut  built  against 
the  wall  of  the  fort  on  the  side  farthest  from 
the  sea.  Joe  noted,  as  he  entered  it,  that  it 
was  close  to  an  embrasure  through  which  he 

could  see  a  large  bay. 

231 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

"I  understand/'  he  thought.  "This  fort 
stands  on  the  extreme  end  of  the  point  of  en 
trance  to  the  harbor  of  Port  Arthur.  But  how 
on  earth  am  I  to  profit  by  that  knowledge  ?" 

Once  inside  the  prison,  Joe  found  that  there 
were  numerous  crevices  through  which  he  could 
see  the  interior  of  the  fort. 

"  I  wonder  how  long  I  have  to  live  ?"  he  re 
flected.  "  Anyhow,  I'm  going  to  be  prepared 
for  any  fate." 

So  saying,  he  began  to  rummage  through  the 
pockets  of  his  coat. 

"  Oh  dear !"  he  exclaimed,  "  I  have  not  a 
scrap  of  paper  nor  a  pencil.'7 

Then  he  went  through  his  trousers  pockets. 

"Hello!  What's  this?  A  box  of  matches. 
Oh,  I  remember;  I  put  them  there  when  I 
started,  thinking  we  might  need  them  if  we 
camped  out.  They'll  do  for  pencils;  and  this 
is  as  good  as  paper." 

He  stripped  himself  of  his  shirt,  and  tore  a 
small  piece  out  of  its  light  bosom. 

"Now  let's  see  what  we  can  see,"  he  mur 
mured,  applying  his  eye  to  a  crack.  "  That's 
the  south  front  over  there.  I've  got  to  make 
this  plan  mighty  small,  haven't  I  ?  If  I  don't, 
I  shall  not  be  able  to  conceal  it  in  case  I  do 

get  a  chance  to  escape.     They  don't  seem  to  be 
232 


JOE    GRIFFIN'S    GREAT    JUMP 

watching  me  very  closely,  either;  but  it's  just 
like  them." 

At  that  instant  he  heard  a  noise  at  the  door, 
and  he  had  barely  time  to  thrust  his  piece  of 
linen  into  a  crack  before  a  Chinese  officer  en 
tered,  followed  by  a  soldier  bearing  some  food. 

"  You  hungry  ?"  asked  the  officer,  in  a  dia 
lect  known  to  both  parties  in  the  war. 

"  Yes/7  answered  Joe. 

"  Good.  Eat.  To-morrow,  sunrise,  you  head 
cut  off." 

Joe  looked  around  nervously. 

"  ~No  escape,"  continued  the  officer.  "  Three 
sides  of  fort  water.  Fort  eighty  feet  high  on 
rocks — straight  down — water  very  deep.  Other 
side  woods — full  of  our  soldiers.  No  escape." 

The  officer  smiled  and,  with  the  soldier,  de 
parted. 

"  Many  thanks  for  your  information,"  said 
Joe.  "  So  we're  eighty  feet  up  on  perpendicular 
rocks,  with  plenty  of  water  at  the  bottom,  eh? 
How  high  did  they  tell  me  the  Constellation's 
f oretopsail-yard  was  ?" 

Joe  sat  in  a  brown  study  for  some  time. 
Then  he  suddenly  exclaimed : 

"  Til  try  it  if  I  get  half  a  chance." 

He  set  to  work  again  with  fresh  energy  at 
his  plan  of  the  fort,  making  it  as  small  as 

233 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

possible.  When  it  was  done  he  folded  it  up 
tightly.  Next  he  ripped  out  the  light  leather 
lining  of  his  cap,  and,  tearing  off  a  small  piece, 
folded  it  around  his  little  plan.  With  great 
patience  he  now  picked  a  long  thread  out  of 
one  of  the  seams  of  his  shirt,  and  with  this  tied 
his  diminutive  package  securely. 

"  Will  it  go  ?"  he  muttered. 

He  put  it  in  his  mouth. 

"  It  goes,"  he  thought,  with  a  smile,  "  and 
room  to  spare.  Thanks  be  to  nature  for  giving 
me  a  big  mouth." 

The  day  passed  very  slowly  indeed  for  Joe. 
As  night  approached  he  became  more  and  more 
anxious.  At  sundown  he  discovered  that  two 
sentinels  were  posted  outside  his  hut,  and  that 
they  began  to  walk  up  and  down  in  such  a  way 
that  they  were  at  opposite  ends  of  their  posts 
at  the  same  time. 

"  That's  good,"  said  Joe,  as  he  set  to  work 
at  the  fastenings  of  the  door. 

He  had  only  his  knife,  but  it  served  his  pur 
pose,  and  by  ten  o'clock  he  was  ready  to  make 
his  attempt.  But  at  that  hour  the  sentries  were 
still  too  wide  awake  and  there  were  too  many 
persons  stirring  about  the  enclosure.  So  he 
gritted  his  teeth,  and,  gripping  his  little  packet 
in  his  hand,  walked  up  and  down  anxiously. 

234 


JOE    GRIFFIN'S    GREAT    JUMP 

The  hours  crawled  on  leaden  feet,  but  still  they 
did  pass,  and  about  one  o'clock  in  the  morning 
Joe  decided  that  the  sentinels  were  sleepy 
enough  for  his  purpose.  He  took  off  his  shoes 
and  stockings  and  his  trousers,  and  stood  in  his 
light  underclothing. 

"  I  believe  the  old  Constellation's  tops'1-yard 
was  about  sixty,  and  this  is  eighty.  I  don't 
think  twenty  feet  more  will  make  much  dif 
ference  when  it's  for  life.  What's  the  use  of 
being  the  champion  diver  and  long  -  distance 
swimmer  of  the  Academy  if  you  can't —  Well, 
here  goes." 

The  sentinels  were  lounging  drowsily  at  the 
farther  ends  of  their  posts.  Joe  loosed  the  last 
slight  fastening,  swung  the  door  gently  back, 
put  his  little  packet  in  his  mouth,  drew  two 
or  three  long  breaths,  shut  his  teeth,  and  jump 
ed  out. 

His  first  bound  took  him  to  the  corner  of  the 
hut.  His  second  carried  him  into  the  embrasure 
beside  the  muzzle  of  the  big  gun.  For  a  single 
instant  he  steadied  himself;  then  he  jumped 
straight  out  into  the  blackness. 

Down,  down  he  went,  the  air  rushing  past 

his  ears  with  a  roar  like  thunder.     But  he 

realized  that  he  was  holding  his  balance  and 

falling  feet  first,  and  the  old  thrill  of  excite- 

235 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

ment  ran  through  him  again  as  he  renewed  the 
sensations  of  his  famous  Academy  jumps  from 
the  f  oretopsail-yard. 

Crash! 

He  was  in  the  water,  shooting  towards  the 
bottom  at  terrific  speed.  I^ow  he  turned  the 
soles  of  his  feet  flat  against  the  water  and 
spread  out  the  palms  of  his  hands.  Gradually 
he  came  to  a  stop  and  began  to  rise.  A  few 
downward  strokes  helped  him.  But  he  was  al 
most  spent.  He  could  feel  the  throbbings  of 
his  heart  and  the  heavy  surging  of  the  blood, 
while  his  chest  heaved  with  the  convulsive  strug 
gles  of  his  lungs  to  breathe.  Stars  began  to 
dance  before  his  eyes,  and  the  poor  boy  was 
ready  to  open  his  mouth  and  drown  when,  to 
his  intense  joy,  his  head  shot  out  of  the  water. 
He  turned  on  his  back  and  floated  for  a  few 
moments  to  rest  himself.  He  listened  intent 
ly.  Yes,  there  were  noises  in  the  air  above 
him. 

His  escape  was  discovered.  He  swam  right 
in  to  the  foot  of  the  cliff,  and  was  fortunate 
enough  to  find  a  projection  on  which  he  could 
rest  in  the  deep  shadow.  He  remained  there  only 
a  few  minutes.  He  slipped  into  the  water  again, 
and  swam  around  the  point  to  the  sea  front  of 
the  fort.  *  Fortunately  there  was  hardly  any  sea 
236 


JOE    GRIFFIN'S    GREAT    JUMP 

on,  and  he  found  another  projection,  on  which 
he  rested  for  a  time. 

"  If  they  think  I'm  in  the  water/'  he  re 
flected,  "  they'll  search  for  me  on  the  other 
side." 

The  boy  took  a  good  rest,  made  sure  that  he 
was  not  hurt,  and  then  started  on  his  long  swim 
along  shore.  He  finally  passed  the  limit  of  the 
rocks,  and  reached  a  shelving  beach.  He  went 
ashore,  and  was  amazed  and  overjoyed  to  find 
a  small  boat  partly  concealed  in  the  bushes.  In 
ten  minutes  he  had  it  in  the  water,  and  was 
bound  out  to  sea. 

Just  as  the  light  of  morning  was  beginning 
to  make  objects  at  sea  discernible  the  lookout 
on  the  cruiser  Yed-Sin  called  out : 

"Boat  ho!" 

"  Where  away  ?"  asked  the  officer  of  the 
deck. 

"  Right  abeam,  sir,  to  windward.  It  looks 
like  a  small  boat  with  one  man  in  it." 

The  cruiser  dropped  down  towards  the  boat, 
and  its  occupant  was  ordered  to  come  aboard. 
A  bedraggled,  staggering,  ghastly  figure  as 
cended  to  the  deck. 

"Goodness!"    exclaimed   the   officer   of   the 
deck,  no  other  than  Orita,  "  it's  Griffin." 
237 


THE    BATTLE    FOR    THE    PACIFIC 

The  swaying  boy  put  his  hand  to  his  mouth, 
and,  taking  out  the  little  packet,  threw  it  on  the 
deck.  "  There  are  the  plans  of  that  fort,"  he 
said,  and  then  he  fainted. 

A  week  later  Port  Arthur  was  captured. 


THE    END 


